Character
by shiny silver grl
Summary: SG1 is kidnapped by an alien king who needs Sam to perpetuate his bloodline & will do anything to possess her. The team must find a way to escape before she pays the ultimate price for her defiance. J&S COMPLETE. :: SGFA WINNER 2006 ::
1. Another Fine Mess

**Title:** "Character"

**Author: **silver

**Written: **December 30th, 2004 – January 2nd, 2005, then March 12th, 2005 – April 9th, 2005

**Takes Place: **I'm gonna say somewhere in the first half of season 5.

**Summary: **SG-1 is taken captive by an alien king who needs Sam to perpetuate his bloodline and is prepared to take any steps necessary to possess her. The team races against time to escape before Sam pays the ultimate price for her defiance. J/S

**Rating:** PG-13 for language and violence, including torture, but nothing more than what you'd see or hear on the show.

**Disclaimer: **Stargate SG-1 belongs to a bunch of people who are in no way related to me. I own nothing but a bunch of tuition bills and a 94 Eagle Vision that just passed 154,000 miles. This fic was written purely in my spare time (hence the two and a half month gap in between sections of writing, due to school), for my own amusement, and I'm making no money from it. More's the pity.

**Author's Note:** Yeah, sorry…it's one of those "Carter gets picked on by an alien race because she's a woman" fics. They seem to keep getting written because Jack's just so damn cute when he's jealous and / or concerned for her. I am helpless to resist the siren call of writing such a story. ;)

And don't worry, I never post a fic without having completed writing it, first, so there will only be a one-day-delay in between chapter postings. The whole thing (nine chapters plus an epilogue) will therefore be posted over the course of just outside a week, a chapter a day until it's finished. I hate to have to do it this way, but I've learned from experience that when I post a fic in its entirety, I get like…nine reviews and then it's lost among all of the other new updates the next day. I have to do it this way in order to ensure that it gets read by more than one day's worth of readers. Sorry!

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"Character"

by: silver

* * *

"Well, this is another fine mess you've gotten us into, Daniel."

Doctor Daniel Jackson's eyebrows drew together like two fuzzy caterpillars suffering under the delusion that they were actually rams at mating season. He cocked an ear and turned as much as the restraints would allow him in order to regard Colonel O'Neill, who was similarly shackled. "Sorry? How is this all my fault, again?"

O'Neill arched an eyebrow sardonically. "Oh, don't give me that look. It's always your fault. You're always the one who wants to talk to the nice natives. And then the nice natives always end up capturing and making off with us."

Daniel frowned and opened his mouth to argue, but O'Neill was going on, "If you'd ever just _listen_ to me, and exercise a little caution, we wouldn't keep finding ourselves in these situations."

"Jack, if we did everything your way, we wouldn't even have the allies we've got now. You can't go around alienating the entire universe."

"Hey!" O'Neill pointed an index finger up in a _stop right there_ gesture. "They were all aliens before I got anywhere near 'em! Besides, with allies like ours, who wants more? Well, except for Thor."

Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, head drooping as he pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously endeavoring not to be drawn into another hopeless argument.

"In Daniel's defense, sir, they didn't exhibit any hostile tendencies until that feast last night."

Colonel O'Neill glanced at the beautiful woman sitting diagonally across from him. She and the tall, silent Jaffa seated next to her were both chained in the same manner as O'Neill and Doctor Jackson. All four were alone in the back of a covered wagon, jostling together as their ride groaned and strained and crashed over rocks and into holes in the earth, being hauled to God only knew where.

O'Neill's second in command had lost her hat somewhere in the scuffle, but the short, almost boyish hairstyle she sported appeared immune to messiness. Actually, she had fared better than all three of her teammates thus far, somehow escaping the natives' impromptu assault with only a few bruises.

Though, _escape_ might be the wrong word to use, O'Neill reflected, since none of his team had, in fact, managed to get away. They'd all been taken by relative surprise when the natives – who, as Carter had pointed out, had been utterly placid up until that point – abruptly rose up as one at the end of their feast and made to abduct the Major.

Nor would it be entirely accurate to claim that he hadn't known _something _was off, because he had. From the moment they'd arrived on this backwater planet (officially designated P3X-2235, SG-1 had been informed by the natives that its name was Nete. The continent was called Nisia), Carter had been the focus of much fascinated attention from the locals. They'd been in awe of her wheat-colored hair, had reached shy fingers out to touch clothing of a sort they'd never seen on a woman. They had given her the seat of honor at the midday meal, lavishing her with the choicest selections of meat, the most succulent pieces of fruit. For her part, Carter had reacted with her traditional diplomacy-induced politeness, but it was obvious to the rest of her team that she found such overwhelming attentiveness somewhat discomforting.

To O'Neill's annoyance, a small cult of unbonded men with no apparent purpose but to worship his 2IC had assembled almost immediately. So yeah, he could tell that the natives were infatuated with her, but it was hardly as if this were the first time. It seemed that many of the cultures they encountered at the other end of the wormhole not only existed under patriarchal rule, but retained some significantly different views of women and their role in society. Even a few of the more advanced civilizations they'd met were genuinely surprised by the equal status that Tau'ri women possessed.

O'Neill sighed, trying to focus on the big picture. Trying – and failing miserably – to ignore the mild case of jealousy that afflicted him every time another man noticed his Major. "I should never have let you guys talk me into letting them have their little hootenanny for us."

"Colonel," Carter protested, "Daniel's right. We can't afford to be aloof with people we're trying to negotiate trade with. The amount of mineable naquada on this planet alone is more than enough reason to motivate us to foster an alliance."

"Yeah, yeah," O'Neill brushed her off. "You know, you're right. It's not Daniel's fault; it's yours."

Her blue eyes registered surprise. "Mine?"

"Oh, you," he waved his hand at her, "and your little fan club of alien suitors."

He was peevishly gratified to see faint color heat her cheeks. "Sir, I hardly think - "

"It's not like this is an isolated incident," O'Neill continued. He held up a hand, ready to recite the lengthy list of men under Carter's spell and tick them off on his fingers, one by one. Then he paused as two things occurred to him. Firstly, most of the names he'd been about to spout off belonged to men who were now dead, and it just seemed a little…_crass_ to use them in such context. Secondly, it probably wasn't such a great idea to let his 2IC in on the fact that her commanding officer was keeping a tally of all the men who'd been interested in her. "It happens everywhere we go," he finished lamely. "I'm just saying – "

"I do not believe Major Carter did anything to indicate that she would welcome the advances of the men who attacked us, O'Neill," Teal'c interjected.

The Colonel raised an eyebrow in surprise at the Jaffa's uncharacteristic interruption. "Well no, but you're missing my point."

"And ah, what is your point, exactly?" Daniel wanted to know.

"That we should have been on the lookout for something like this."

Daniel inclined his head and squinted dubiously at O'Neill. "Because…we've…been kidnapped by men interested in Sam so many times before…?"

"Because they all lulled us into a state of complacency!" O'Neill declared. "Just because the situation isn't abnormal doesn't mean we shouldn't be on the alert. We let our guard down because this whole thing is commonplace."

"Colonel, with all due respect, I think you're exaggerating just a little," Carter said uncomfortably.

"You just wait," he replied vaguely, irritably sinking lower against the stiff seat back and wishing he could cross his arms. The manacles around his wrists, however, bound them effectively to the wooden beam across his lap.

In an attempt to change the subject, thereby saving Carter from further mortification, Daniel cleared his throat. "So…let's think about this rationally for a minute. Did we maybe do something that could've been perceived as threatening?"

"We did not." Teal'c's tone was, as usual, flatly factual and brokered no argument.

Carter shook her head in agreement. "Everything was fine."

"Okay, uh, did anyone notice anything out of the ordinary just before they attacked?"

For several moments the interior of the wagon was silent save for the sounds of horses and people talking that intruded from outside as they all contemplated the events from the evening before. O'Neill tried to catch a glimpse of their location through a slit in the canvas that covered their wagon, but although there was sufficient lighting from the early morning sun, all he could make out were trees. He scowled at a memory from just before the attack. "What about the guy?"

Everyone looked at him. "The…guy." Daniel said.

"Yeah, you know."

"Oh yes of course, that one. Thank you for elaborating."

"Don't be smart," O'Neill commanded. "There was a guy. The smarmy one acting like Carter's personal assistant."

"Raynaal," Teal'c supplied the name.

"Yeah, that guy," O'Neill said, then looked over at his 2IC. "He brought you something, didn't he? Right before everybody spazzed out?"

Carter's eyes unfocused, giving the impression that she was looking inwardly for the answer as she thought back. "Yes, sir. It looked like a stone but it was very smooth and symmetrical. Actually, now that I think about it, it looked similar to an Asgard communicator, but without any symbols. He indicated that it was some sort of technological device"

"With what purpose?" Teal'c asked, suddenly looking interested.

"He said it was a type of medical diagnostic tool; offered to show me how it worked."

"I'll bet he did," O'Neill muttered.

Carter didn't acknowledge the remark, either choosing to pretend as if she hadn't heard, or was just genuinely concentrating on her memory. "He said that just by placing it on a patient's skin, healers can tell all sorts of things about them."

"And you let him put it on you?" O'Neill asked incredulously. "What were you thinking? You don't just let strange people come up and…put rocks on you."

"It seemed perfectly harmless, sir," Carter defended herself. "And it didn't do anything to me; I'm fine."

"But he learned something from it," Daniel said thoughtfully. "Something that changed the way they were acting toward us."

"Perhaps they have discovered the protein marker left behind by Jolinar," Teal'c suggested. There was a slightly perplexed expression on his face, as if something Carter had just said was familiar to him, but he couldn't quite recall it.

Carter pursed her lips, thinking. "It could be anything, really. We have no idea what they might be reacting to. It's possible they just don't like the location of my appendix, for all we know."

O'Neill sighed melodramatically. "I'm sure we'll find out."

* * *

They traveled for the better part of the day; the wagon containing them was apparently part of a larger caravan on some of sort cross-country trek. Since the team had been deprived of their weapons and gear ("At least I got to keep my glasses, this time," Daniel had remarked), O'Neill appreciated the several rest stops staggered over the course of the trip. SG-1 was served water, bread and dried meat, eating in the wagon under the watchful eye of a guard armed with an impressive-looking blade. They were permitted to leave the wagon briefly – under escort of guards, of course – only in order to use the facilities of the woods.

Several hours past the last rest stop, the light shining into the wagon had taken on an orange cast and O'Neill figured they were nearing the planet's nightfall. All of their watches had been removed at the same time they'd been divested of their vests and weapons, but if he had to guess, he'd place it at twenty hours since their capture the night before, and around twelve since being loaded into the wagon that morning.

"We've gotta be at least nine hours overdue," he commented.

Daniel looked at him. "They'd have sent reinforcements by now."

Carter sighed in frustration; for the past hour she'd been attempting to pick the lock on her shackles with a sliver of wood she'd managed to smuggle back from her last foray into the forest, but it just wasn't strong enough to spring the heavy metal lock. She gave up after it snapped into pieces too small to utilize, and flicked them to the floor of the wagon. "That's assuming there were no hostiles at the gate when they sent the M.A.L.P. through. General Hammond won't have authorized a rescue mission if it puts another team in danger. And I haven't heard the UAV."

"Nor have I," Teal'c added. "However, the interior of our conveyance has not at all times remained silent."

O'Neill glanced at him, then at the other members of his team. "What're you all looking at me for? I wasn't the only one talking."

"No," Daniel admitted, "but you were the one who insisted we play 'I Spy' and 'Twenty Questions'."

"Oh come on," O'Neill said. "Don't tell me you haven't been just as bored out of your skull as me."

The archaeologist wisely remained silent, and so it was that they all heard a shout in the distance, outside. Moments later the wagon ground to a stop. At first O'Neill wondered if they were under some sort of attack, but the level of conversation outside remained constant, lacking panic. O'Neill craned to see out through the slit in the canvas. "Teal'c, can you see anything?"

The Jaffa was leaning forward as far as he was able, examining things from his viewpoint. "Indeed. We have come to a fortified structure. There is a large gate with guards. It appears that the convoy will gain entry."

His words were prophetic. Not two minutes passed before the wagon started moving again. They could all tell when they'd entered the structure Teal'c had spoken of, for the light that filtered through the canvas immediately became much dimmer. They eyed each other apprehensively in the gloom, realizing that the end of their journey was near.

Moments after the wagon came to its final stop the canvas was opened by Raynaal, the same man who had instigated their capture the evening before. He and an escort of four guards removed SG-1 from the wagon and led them away from the group of people who had traveled with them this far. O'Neill assessed their surroundings as they walked, seeking any information that might help them escape. He noticed that his team was doing the same. Teal'c and Carter, he was sure, were also looking for ways out. If he knew Daniel, though, the archaeologist was observing the architecture, the artwork, and anything else that might give him insight into the culture.

They were conducted through a maze of candlelit corridors by their armed guard: Raynaal led the way followed by two of the guards, and the other two remained behind SG-1 to ensure their cooperation. O'Neill could feel the temperature shift subtly as they moved deeper into the structure; the air became marginally cooler the farther away they were from the warming sun.

Finally, they came to a set of high wooden doors illustrated by paintings and covered in alien symbols worked in iron. A large matching ring was also affixed to each door at the center. When their guards paused before the doors, O'Neill glanced at Carter out of the corner of his eye. She had schooled it from her expression, but her tense body language revealed anxiousness about the motivations of their captors. She was the one who had been singled out the night before, and she no doubt believed – as he did – that their abduction had little to do with the team, and everything to do with _her_.

O'Neill nudged Teal'c, who was standing on his other side. "Check out the size of those knockers," he said, indicating the iron rings. Predictably, Teal'c merely cocked an incurious eyebrow and returned his eyes to front. On his right, however, O'Neill was gratified to see Carter press her lips together in attempt to stamp out the small smile she could never quite suppress at his bad jokes. Observing the lilting curve at the corners of her mouth, O'Neill considered his mission accomplished and returned his own attention to the doors.

They opened, and SG-1 was escorted into the room beyond. Daniel's head whipped back and forth as he tried to take in everything at once. The furnishings were opulent. Gilded mirrors, thick, embroidered tapestries and colorful decorations adorned the walls of the chamber, and there were several plush divans festooned with enormous, overstuffed pillows. At the far end of the room there was also a throne resting atop a dais, framed by gauze-like sheets of silk held back by thick, tasseled ropes.

Upon the throne was seated a man clad in a white robe and what O'Neill could only regard as a skirt, no matter how many times Daniel tried to educate him about the reasons behind the dress customs of more primitive cultures. The dark-eyed man looked to be of about forty years of age, and atop his long brown hair he wore – surprisingly – a Pharaoh's headpiece.

Raynaal bowed. "Basileus," he said respectfully.

The seated man rose and approached immediately. Daniel took the opportunity to step forward, launching automatically into his usual spiel. "Hello. I'm Doctor Daniel Jackson. We're peaceful explo – "

"This is she?" the stranger inquired of Raynaal, walking right past Daniel. Raynaal nodded enthusiastically, and the robed man's gaze settled hungrily on Carter. "I have waited a lifetime for you," he told her.

Carter's wide, intensely blue eyes reminded O'Neill of a cupie doll. Her mouth opened to give reply, but she had obviously not been expecting to be greeted by such a statement. "Uh," she said, and if the situation hadn't been so tenuous O'Neill thought he might've laughed. He didn't think he'd ever seen her so lost for words, before. To her credit, she finally blinked and recovered quickly. "I think there's been some sort of mistake. My team and I have come in peace to negotiate trade with your people."

The man – 'Basileus', Raynaal had called him – smiled at Carter, obviously entranced, and the bad feeling in O'Neill's gut began to blossom into something uglier. "Of course," the man said, freeing Carter from her bonds. He immediately took one of her hands into both of his own in a possessive gesture. "I look forward to many years of friendship between our peoples."

Daniel's eyebrows rose in tandem with Teal'c's. O'Neill forced enthusiasm. "Well that's great, isn't it, kids? Years from now we'll all be sitting around, knocking back the brews, laughing about the time our good pal Basileus stole our weapons and had us taken prisoner. " He raised his own shackled wrists to the guard nearest him, who remained unmoving and impassive. "Yep," O'Neill continued, "good times. Just as soon as you…you know…let us go." He hopefully shook his clanking wrists for emphasis.

Finally, the robed man took his eyes from Carter and looked at O'Neill. "I apologize for the methods necessary to bring you here. But I could not risk missing this opportunity. The rest of you will be released as soon as the ceremony is complete, and I hope that there will be no ill will between us."

Daniel's eyes narrowed a little. "What ceremony?"

"Uh…the _rest_ of us?" O'Neill asked.

"Forgive me," the man said. "I've gotten ahead of myself. My name is Polytus; I am the Basileus of this land, called Nisia. The ceremony I spoke of is my bonding..." Here he again turned his attention to Carter, "…to this remarkable woman. She will remain here with me, of course."

* * *


	2. Told You So

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**

O'Neill took a step forward – just one – and tried to keep his expression non-threatening. He ended up with his trademark half-smile, half-wince, in anticipation of things about to go in a direction that he'd really rather they wouldn't. Namely South. "I don't think so."

Either sensing the same trouble ahead that O'Neill did, or simply in an effort to keep the Colonel from exploding yet another cultural landmine, Daniel rushed to intervene. "Ah, what Colonel O'Neill means is that where we come from, marriages – er…bondings – must be voluntary on both sides."

Polytus smiled bemusedly. "Of course. The people of Nisia have similar laws."

Daniel blinked, mouth open, the wind having been effectively removed from his sails. "Oh. Well…okay, good."

Teal'c addressed the Basileus. "Did you not say that Major Carter must remain here?"

Polytus smiled when he turned back to the woman who had already so obviously bewitched him. "It is my hope," he said to her, "that you will consent to stay and be my queen."

"Oy," O'Neill said under his breath, looking away to scan the room again out of habit, doing a threat assessment just in case things turned dicey.

Carter tried a tentative smile, apparently aiming for damage control, now. "That's…quite an offer. And I'm flattered, really. But I belong on my world, with my people."

Slowly the smile faded from Polytus' face, becoming something less than pleased. "You will not stay?"

Carter's expression was apologetic, but firm as she shook her head. "I'm sorry, but no."

"That is most unfortunate," Polytus said, all traces of benevolence leaking away from his features. His face now more accurately represented that of a leader…stern and commanding. When he spoke again, his words sounded like an order. "The laws of Nisia mandate that you must consent to the bonding voluntarily. I insist that you reconsider."

Carter's respectful politeness dimmed over the course of a blink, leaving only the fixed resolve of a soldier in her eyes. Beneath the composed exterior O'Neill could see traces of the person who had once – upon perceiving that her new CO judged and dismissed her as a woman first, a fellow officer second – challenged him to an arm-wrestling contest to prove she was just as capable as he was. Hints of dangerous warning entered her voice. "My answer is no."

"Then you leave me no other option but to keep you here until you agree," Polytus replied, as if it were the most logical conclusion in the world.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Daniel interjected. "It's against the law for you to force someone into marriage, but you can force her to change her mind?"

The Basileus ignored him. "Take them below," he commanded the guards, then turned back to Carter. "I will send for you on the morrow; please, for the sake of yourself and your friends, reconsider my proposal."

There was enough sincerity in his entreaty to set off warning bells in O'Neill's mind, but there was no opportunity to question the ruler further, for his guards immediately moved to obey their orders.

SG-1 was escorted out of the throne room and back through the labyrinthine corridors. Several winding stone staircases down, they were led from the room into a large cavern beneath the castle. They were not alone. The cavern was filled with workers, most of which were shackled to their posts. Each had been outfitted with a pickaxe, and several more workers labored to transport rock debris out of the way in crude carts. One of the debris retrieval crew was a small boy of about nine. He was covered in grime and his large eyes stared at the newcomers as they were marched past. Carter tried a smile and waved at him, but the boy ran away.

O'Neill surveyed the workers as they passed. They scurried about with the mindless purpose and dedication of ants, but O'Neill could see the fatigue in their eyes and exhaustion in the way they struggled to keep swinging. He saw gaunt faces and too-thin bodies, and he grimly followed the guards to their cell.

Having deposited their charges, the guards left SG-1 alone in their new home. O'Neill had undoubtedly endured worse, but the area was certainly going to be cramped for four people. The cell was roughly divided into two separate, miniscule areas. The "front", which was the section immediately before the iron bars, consisted of a single platform jutting from a low spot on both the left and right wall, and they would serve both as benches during the day and bunks at night. The "back" was an even smaller section to the rear of the cell containing a straw-covered pallet that rested upon the floor, which was composed of tightly packed dirt. Off in the furthermost corner was a crude latrine.

As the bars slid home with an ominous clank, O'Neill scrubbed a hand over his face. "Why are there always mines?" He addressed everyone and no one at once. "Did you ever notice that? Every time something like this happens, we're sent to the mines."

"Well, we _did_ come here to trade for naquada, and it doesn't exactly grow on trees," Daniel pointed out.

"Yeah," O'Neill grumpily agreed. "So, any theories on how we get out of this?"

Teal'c had made it his first order of business to test the strength of the bars. Finding them too strong to bend or dislodge, he turned his back on them. "Escape will not be possible this way."

Daniel returned to the bars from pacing the length and width of the tiny alcove cut into the rock and looked out into the hallway that led back to the main cavern. O'Neill had observed him doing this enough times in the past that he had finally asked Carter once if she had any idea what he was doing. She had, of course, and informed him that archaeologists always knew the measure of their own strides so that – if they were ever in the field without access to their equipment – they would always be able to ascertain the dimensions of a dig or site. For his part, Daniel seemed to do it automatically, without even thinking about it.

"Well," Daniel said, "there's sort of a strange mix of cultures on this planet. They called Polytus "Basileus", which was originally an Ancient Greek term for 'big man', or 'chief'…way back at the beginning of the Agricultural Revolution when social stratification first began. Only later did it come to mean 'king', but that's a natural sort of evolution that probably would have happened anywhere. The figures painted on the doors upstairs, though, would have been found much further North than that region at that time."

"But he was dressed like a Pharaoh," Carter interjected. "And Egypt's on a totally different continent."

"You're right," Daniel replied.

"So…what?" O'Neill asked. "Whatever Goa'uld brought them here took a sample from a few different cultures and dumped them all in one place?"

"Not necessarily," Daniel said. "In the middle of the Bronze Age there was a huge migration of Indo-Europeans into Greece. The Indo-Europeans were coming from up around the Caspian and Black seas. The migration occurred over several centuries, and they merged with the existing culture. And," he said excitedly, "Greece traded all over the Aegean and Mediterranean Seas, including with Egypt. So I'm guessing that _these _guys were transported here from somewhere over the course of those few centuries. It's the only way there'd be representation from all three cultures here."

"And this was _how_ long ago?" O'Neill wanted to know.

Daniel pursed his lips, looking around again. "About four thousand years, give or take a century or two."

Teal'c's dark eyes took in the crude bars and jagged walls of their cell. "They do not appear to have progressed very far technologically since that time."

"No," Daniel agreed. "But on Earth, after the Minoan and Mycenaean cultures flourished, there was some big, mysterious, devastating _something_ that caused the whole region to backslide into the Iron Age from about eleven fifty to eight hundred B.C. Maybe something similar happened here, but for longer."

"The Goa'uld might have had something to do with that," Carter suggested.

Daniel nodded. "That's entirely possible. I don't see any evidence of them now, though."

"Well, something tells me they're not mining naquada because it's so shiny," O'Neill drawled. "Anyway, this is all fascinating, really, but it doesn't answer my question."

"Sorry, Jack, but nothing's leaped out at me, yet. I'll try to talk to Polytus again in the morning when he sends for us."

"No dice, Daniel. He only wants to talk to Carter." O'Neill turned to his second in command, who was definitely looking tense, again. "I hate to say I told you so," O'Neill continued, "but…well, no, I really don't hate saying it."

Carter closed her eyes, something wearied in her expression, and her head drooped. At the same time, there was a hint of color creeping into her cheeks. It was an interesting combination, eliciting an odd agglomeration of responses in him. On one hand, he did enjoy the pretty blush she wore. She was always cute when she was off balance. Hell, who was he kidding? He always thought she was cute, period. And he _did_ like being right. But at the same time the fawning attention from the locals and the demands from the Basileus had obviously made her uncomfortable. They had maybe even made her feel responsible, although she'd done nothing wrong. Suddenly he felt like a bit of a heel for his comment, which was only compounded when Carter muttered, "You were right, sir."

O'Neill grimaced, tapping restless fingers against his thighs. "Yeah," he said cheerlessly. "Well, look, maybe it can work to our advantage."

"How?" Daniel wanted to know. Teal'c was also looking at him expectantly.

"Well, Carter could agree to this thing…"

"What?" she interrupted.

"…_and_," O'Neill plowed on, "after the ceremony she tells him she left the oven on, or something, she'll be right back, and then we all get the hell out of here."

There were several beats of incredulous silence from his teammates, then:

"You wish for Major Carter to marry Polytus?" Teal'c asked.

O'Neill really did _not_ wish it. In fact, the whole idea was sort of making his insides clench and twist unpleasantly. But that was beside the point. "Look, guys, it's not like we've got a lot of options, here."

"Sir, I'm aware of that," Carter said hesitatingly. "But with all due respect, I don't think I could do it. I mean, agree to it with no intention of following through. It just doesn't seem right. Beyond that, what he's demanding is wrong. It's a matter of principle, sir."

"And while your integrity is admirable, Carter, he's hardly got _our_ best interests at heart." O'Neill made the argument, but at this point he wondered how much of it was overcompensation. Because really, he _didn't_ like the idea of his 2IC having to agree to an offworld marriage to get them out of this situation. But then he worried that maybe his thoughts were obvious to the others. If maybe the more unprofessional of his feelings for Carter were on display to them, like the hem of a slip showing beneath an old lady's skirt, which everyone saw but ignored for the sake of kindness. The concern that he might be perceived as being soft on Carter sent him in completely the other direction in an attempt to mask his true sentiments. "Desperate times, Major."

"Yes, sir, I know. And if that's what it comes down to, then that's what I'll do. I just…I guess I'm also just a little anxious about what he might expect from me."

"Sam's right," Daniel said, shaking his head. "Once they married she'd be held accountable to Nisia's laws. Who knows what sort of punishments they reserve for a woman who disobeys her husband, here? We can't risk it. Right now, the only thing working to our advantage is that we're not from around here."

O'Neill gestured to encompass the confines of their tiny prison. "You call this an advantage?" His tone was flippant, and he told himself it wasn't to cover his relief over the agreement that Carter shouldn't marry the Basileus. It wasn't.

Nope.

* * *

The next morning they all rose with sore backs and cricks in their necks. Though the sleeping arrangements had been sufficient – with one alternating member of the team always on watch, that freed up the two "bunks" and the pallet in the back of the cell for the three sleeping – the cold, hard stone had done nothing but create new aches and pains in O'Neill's body.

He sat up painfully and massaged the back off his neck with one hand. Across from him, Daniel had also risen and was now sitting on the edge of his platform, holding his head in his hands. "Ow," the archaeologist said.

"A truer word was never spoken," O'Neill agreed. He looked – slowly, so as not to further agitate the gigantic kink in his neck – toward the rear of the cell. "Rise and shine, Carter."

"Already up, Sir," came the reply, and then his 2IC stepped into the cell proper. She looked a little brighter-eyed than her teammates, no doubt due to the fact that she'd spent her night on the straw-covered pallet.

She had automatically moved to bunk on one of the stone platforms the evening before, her military training dictating that officers take positions more dangerous than civilians' whenever possible. She had reluctantly moved to the back, however, when O'Neill, Daniel and Teal'c all claimed that they preferred not to sleep on the scratchy straw.

Carter's expression had been dubious, indicating her disbelief in their story, but she hadn't put up a fight. While her acquiescence was surprising, it was fortunate for O'Neill since it meant that he wouldn't have to make it an order. The funny thing was, they all knew that she'd be the target of any potential incursion, and she knew that they knew that. Logically, she then also knew that by shuffling her off to the rear of the cell, each member of her team was putting her as far away from danger as he could, placing as many people as possible in between her and the entrance.

But she'd said nothing, and neither had Colonel O'Neill. Unvoiced acknowledgement was something at which they were both supremely skilled, and Teal'c and Daniel had followed their lead.

Now, O'Neill stood and went to the bars. Down the hall, he could hear the stirring of the workers in their own cells. The guards had marched SG-1 past a whole string of them on their way down the previous evening; the tiny rooms had been empty, then, but obviously the morning's work was about to get under way. "I wonder what it would take to get some bacon and eggs around here?"

Carter joined him at the bars. "Where's a tin cup when you need one?"

"Actually, I don't think they _have_ tin here. If they had tin, they'd have learned how to make Bronze by now, like the cultures on Earth did. But everything we've seen so far is made of iron."

"Daniel Jackson," Teal'c started, "you spoke of the technological relapse in ancient cultures of the Tau'ri. What was the cause?"

"Uh, well, no one really knows for sure," Daniel said. "It's sort of a mystery, actually. There are a lot of theories, ranging from internal strife and civil war, to natural disasters that caused a system collapse. But whatever actually happened, there's definitely evidence of some major destruction that occurred around twelve hundred B.C. Mycenae was absolutely gutted by fire. Palaces everywhere were destroyed, there was a massive population decline in central Greece, but then people showed up on the coasts, as if they were running from something. Trade collapsed, and the whole region plunged back into the Iron Age."

The archaeologist's tone was enthusiastic, and his hands gestured animatedly as he became caught up in his impromptu history lesson. "The most popular theory, actually, involves some records of the Hittites, in which they – and the Ancient Egyptians, interestingly enough – claimed that they'd been attacked by 'sea people' from the North and East. The theory is that these invaders came down from the North, knocking cities out as they descended, pushing people out who then had to flee to coastal areas."

"Goa'uld attacks?" Carter asked.

Daniel looked uncertain. "It's _possible_…in fact, it would explain a lot. But I don't know that we can leap to that conclusion based on the evidence available. I don't know which System Lord would have made the Hittites and Egyptians think of 'sea people' when describing him, but there are still a lot of them we don't know about, yet."

"Heads up," O'Neill commanded, and his team stiffened, immediately on the alert. "We've got company."

Everyone backed away from the bars and moved closer together. A new quartet of guards arrived before their cell, unlocking it so that two of their number could deliver four bowls of food. Upon inspection, O'Neill discovered about what he'd expected: in addition to always being thrown into the mines, crappy prisoner food was apparently another requirement of the whole "getting captured" experience. Their "breakfast" was a thin, watery gruel that sloshed around in the bottom of their bowls, reminding O'Neill quite a bit of the "nourishment" they'd been provided on the prison planet where they'd first met Linea. With no way of knowing when they'd be fed next, he indicated that his team should eat up.

Their guards waited for them. When SG-1 had finished, one of their sentinels took the empty bowls and they all stood back to let the team empty into the corridor. Without any conscious thought, O'Neill and Teal'c maneuvered it so that they walked with Carter safely between them. Daniel brought up the rear, occasionally attempting to converse with the uncommunicative guards.

A short while later, they all stood once more in the opulent room before Polytus. The eyes of the Basileus lit up at the sight of Carter, and he immediately descended from his throne to greet her.

Not the rest of them, O'Neill noticed, just Carter. The man was absolutely fixated on her. "Have you reconsidered?" he asked.

To Carter's left, Daniel cleared his throat and drew her gaze. A silent exchange passed between them, and Carter turned back to Polytus. "I'll answer you, but I'd like you to please listen to my friend first, for just a minute."

Polytus blinked, and while his lips remained fixed in a smile, it was obvious by the cold light in his eyes that he was displeased with her request. "Of course," he said after a moment, and turned with exaggerated politeness to Daniel. "Please, say what you will."

Daniel opened his hands, palms out, in an unconscious gesture as he spoke. "First of all, let me say that we mean absolutely no disrespect to you, your laws, or your people. We came here in peace, only to negotiate trade and to exchange information. But what you're asking of Major Carter is considered wrong by our people, and I think it's best if we were to just leave, for now."

"I'm afraid that is quite impossible," the ruler said. "I cannot release her, no matter her decision. She must remain here. I need her; I must have her."

"Yes," O'Neill sighed, not surprised. "Who mustn't?"

Carter shot him a look, which O'Neill returned with an innocent one of his own. Then his second in command turned back to their captor. "Look," she said, devoid of all pretenses of pleasantry, "I'm not staying here with you. I don't know you, I've got very important work on my own planet, and I _really_ don't like guys who don't take 'no' for an answer. Nothing you say will _ever_ convince me to agree, so you may as well just let us go."

There was no mistaking the mournful expression on the ruler's face, but whether he felt true sorrow or not was inconsequential. "Then you leave me no choice," he said, and gave a slow nod to one of his attendants. The young man brought forth a long, slender box; he held it horizontally level while the Basileus opened its lid. Inside, nestled amid layers of a filmy material similar to the hangings around the throne, was a rod of some sort.

It was about the same thickness as a Jaffa staff weapon's grip, but half the length. Pure white in color, it also sported a knob at one end and a flattened point at the other, like a crayon. Though there were distinct differences, it reminded O'Neill uncomfortably of a Goa'uld Pain Stick.

Immediate tension rippled through the four members of SG-1. Before any of them could take action, however, Polytus signaled again to his guards, who swarmed in to preemptively restrain O'Neill, Teal'c and Daniel. Two more moved to grab one of Carter's arms each, holding her immobile. Save for them, she was left alone before the Basileus, but she never flinched as he approached her. "I ask you again to reconsider. What I am about to do will not be pleasant for either of us," he said regretfully.

"Then don't do it," she bit back. "You're the one with all the power here. No one's forcing _you_."

"I _must_ change your mind," he said.

Carter's chin jerked up defiantly. "I'll never agree."

Polytus winced and then – appearing as if he were really dreading the result of his own actions – took one final step toward Carter, touching the end of his staff to her temple.

* * *


	3. The Agonis

**

* * *

**

The effect was instantaneous, and horrible. Carter cried out and her whole body jerked as if electrified, curving into a stiff backward arc like a bow. Her arms shot out blindly, seeking support, but the guards had stepped away. Her muscles were painfully rigid and then she spasmed again, losing her feet. The guards made no attempt to check her fall and she collapsed to the floor in a paroxysm of powerful convulsions.

O'Neill was having a fit of his own, struggling violently in the grip of his captors. He glimpsed Teal'c doing the same and fleetingly wondered if he looked as murderous as the Jaffa did.

In the midst of the scuffle he heard Polytus order them released, and he shot away from his guards like a bullet from a gun, running over to Carter. He distantly heard Daniel's voice – "Jack, don't touch her, she might be…" – but he was already beside her, putting his hands on her to try and hold her still. The convulsions were brutal, causing her back to arch painfully, then slamming her back down to the floor with a skull-splitting crack. Whatever they'd done to her, O'Neill was more afraid that she was going to kill herself by flailing around the way she was.

His palms pressed against her shoulders and he leaned down on her with all of his weight. "Teal'c! Daniel, help me hold her!"

They were already there, attempting to restrain her from further damaging herself. Daniel's eyes burned up at the Basileus. "Help her!" he demanded.

Polytus didn't move. "I cannot. Nothing can be done for her until the Agonis has passed. It will take several hours. Let us hope that tomorrow her answer will be different."

The ruler returned to his throne, having obviously dismissed them. The ever-present guards approached, clearly intending to usher the team back to their cell. "Come on, we've gotta get her up," O'Neill said.

"Jack, I don't think she should be moved."

"No choice, Daniel. Either we take her as gently as possible, or let one of these goons sling her over his shoulder."

There was really no argument for that, and so Daniel helped to lift the thrashing Major.

The trip back to the cell was grueling. It took all of them to keep Carter secured; she appeared helpless to restrict the actions of her own body, which continued to quake uncontrollably. Though O'Neill believed she must be aware enough of her surroundings to repress most of her cries of pain, the occasional low moan testified to her suffering.

Finally, they reached the end of their journey; O'Neill would never have thought a prison cell would look like salvation to him. As the bars slid home behind them, the standing members of SG-1 carried their fallen teammate back to the pallet on the floor that Carter had slept on the night before. O'Neill, walking backwards, nearly tripped on it and had a hell of a time keeping Carter stable. Finally, he sank down to his knees against the wall and helped Teal'c and Daniel lower her next to him.

"All right, what do we do? How do we help her?" O'Neill demanded.

Carter's apoplexy went on, and on, with no signs of ceasing. "I don't know, I don't know," Daniel confessed, looking a bit frenzied. "It looks like she's having a…a sort of seizure. If this is some kind of epileptic fit, all we can do is keep her from hurting herself."

"It is not," Teal'c said. "It is the Agonis."

"Agonis," Daniel repeated. "That's what Polytus called it. It must come from _agon_, the ancient Greek word for contest, or struggle. The modern English derivative is agony."

O'Neill fought for balance; leaned over her as he was, he shook each time she lurched. Agony was definitely the right word for what his second in command was going through. "You know what this is?" he asked Teal'c.

Striving to keep Carter's lower half pinned to the pallet, Teal'c's nod was slightly more curt than usual. "I do," he said. "Now I recall this race; I have seen this weapon used before. It is similar to a Goa'uld Pain Stick, different in that it assails the victim with great pain for several hours. It is commonly used more for punishment than the torture associated with interrogation. The victim is unable to resist or escape from it. Even Jaffa find it excruciating. Used too soon or too often, it will kill."

Daniel looked at his friend. "You've experienced it, haven't you?"

"Once," Teal'c replied in the affirmative, "and I would not be anxious to repeat the occurrence. I can only surmise that it will be even more painful for Major Carter, as she is human."

"And a woman, on top of that," Daniel mused. His task was to keep her back from its painful arching, but her convulsions were so powerful that he'd found he had to nearly lie across her to keep her down.

From up near her head, where he was bracing her upper torso, Colonel O'Neill shot a look at the archaeologist. "You'd better hope this thing makes it so she can't hear, Danny Boy, or else she'll kick your ass for that remark when it's all over."

"She is aware of her surroundings and what is said," Teal'c confirmed, "but cannot overcome the pain to respond until it is over."

Daniel pursed his lips and looked slightly worried. "Well, seizure or not, we've got to try and keep her from hitting anything."

It seemed that she was bucking a little less than before, and Daniel and Teal'c tentatively rose to their knees. Still, she twitched uncontrollably, the occasional whimper escaping her lips despite the rigidity of her facial features.

Then, from the front of the cell, they all heard a scuffling noise. They looked up to see a small boy crouched outside their cell, and O'Neill recognized him as the one Carter had waved to the day before. He was sitting on his haunches at the base of the bars, and had slipped his hands between them. O'Neill saw that he held a cup.

"Oh, hello," Daniel said softly, rising and walking slowly toward the boy. He crouched down at an unthreatening distance. "My name is Daniel," he continued. "What's yours?"

The boy's impossibly dark eyes were wide and round, and he licked his lips nervously. "Aziz," he whispered.

Daniel smiled. "Aziz…that's an Egyptian name."

His words obviously meant nothing to the boy. He thrust the cup toward Daniel, who took it curiously. "It is water," Aziz explained. "For the lady, when it is done."

Daniel opened his mouth, but the boy was already up and running down the corridor. "Thank you!" he called out anyway, then turned back to his friends.

Teal'c still sat on his heels, observing Carter's progress. O'Neill had pulled the Major into his lap to cushion her convulsions, holding her tightly to confine her arms. For the moment, this was all they could do for her.

* * *

The pain held her in its merciless grip for hours. Daniel didn't even want to think about what Carter was going through, but as it went on and on she became weaker and less able to remain silent. Her tormented cries shredded his heart and he could neither do anything to help her nor escape from her pitiful moans.

His friends were just as helpless. At length, Teal'c had gone to sit on the stone platform opposite Daniel, and Colonel O'Neill remained on the pallet, cradling Carter in his arms. She still twitched with the occasional spasm, reinforcing Daniel's original , but erroneous impression that she'd been shocked by Polytus' pain stick, but her motions were much muted from before.

Finally – _finally_ – it released her. They could all tell the moment it happened, for she stopped jerking and let out a long, shaky sigh. Teal'c and Daniel rushed into the confined space and crowded around their fallen comrade as O'Neill gently lifted and slid her over so that she was lying face down on the field jacket Teal'c had placed there.

Major Carter lay where she was, trembling from exertion and aftershocks of the pain. Her mouth worked silently as she panted, trying to recover. Her eyes had yet to open.

"Sam?" Daniel was the first to break the heavy, anticipatory silence. "Can you hear me?"

Carter's brow furrowed in response, and under other circumstances Daniel would have perceived her expression as one of deep thought. As she continued to swallow and work her mouth, Daniel realized that's just what it was. She was having to concentrate greatly on responding, and was thus far not succeeding.

"Major Carter," Teal'c tried. "Has the pain passed?"

Carter's arm seized helplessly, her fingers twitching. Her respiration deepened, and she looked to Daniel like someone trying to escape from a particularly stifling nightmare. The archaeologist could see that Colonel O'Neill was also getting anxious for some sort of response that she was okay. "Major, report!" he finally ordered.

Her eyes snapped open and she coughed, her hands reflexively clenching into fists around the straw. She was able to pull it together enough to gasp out reply. "Sir," she acknowledged. "That…really sucked."

The Colonel barked a surprised laugh. Daniel quickly joined in, relieved beyond measure. He'd been so worried that the pain wouldn't let up, or that when it did she'd be impaired, somehow. But she was going to be okay. Even Teal'c had allowed a small smile to grace his lips, beaming at the Major in his own way.

A moment later, however, she was pushing at them all, trying to get clear. She managed to scrabble to her hands and knees on her own before Daniel realized her purpose. He rose immediately, grabbing Carter around the waist and hauling her up and over to the latrine. She collapsed to her knees before it just in time.

Daniel winced and placed a supportive, but basically useless hand on Carter's back as she violently retched. He felt helpless, and faced away slightly to give her as much privacy as possible. Several feet away, O'Neill was also flinching. Teal'c merely appeared concerned.

When there was nothing left to purge, Carter leaned back and rested her forehead on the arms crossed over the rim of the toilet, taking deep breaths. "Oh!" Daniel said suddenly, and ran back to the front section of the cell. He retrieved the cup Aziz had brought and carried it to Carter. "Here," he said, kneeling and pressing it into her hand. "It's water."

Carter accepted it gratefully, sampling the water and swishing the liquid around in her mouth thoroughly before spitting into the toilet. "Yet another admirer of yours brought it," O'Neill said.

"Oh God, not another one," Carter begged hoarsely, startling another chuckle out of them all.

"It was the little boy you waved to yesterday," Daniel explained. "He said his name was Aziz, and that the water was for you."

"I'll have to remember to thank him," she said, and carefully took a small sip to swallow. She eyed Daniel as she leaned her back against the wall and slid to the floor.

"I'd have held your hair for you," he said gallantly, "but…you know." He waggled the digits of one hand toward his own head, indicating Carter's short style.

Carter smiled weakly and closed her eyes for a moment, still taking deep breaths. "And that's why I won't hurt you for the comment about me handling this worse because I'm a woman."

"Ooh, busted, Spacemonkey," O'Neill's voice came from behind him.

Daniel blinked, then smiled sheepishly as Carter opened her eyes again and grinned at him.

Colonel O'Neill rose and came to stand next to Daniel, peering down at his second in command, assessing. "Seriously, Carter. You okay?"

She nodded in the affirmative, but Daniel remained skeptical. He knew that Carter was too much of a soldier to ever say otherwise, especially to her commanding officer. "It probably ranks as my third least favorite on the list of traumatic events I've gone through, but it's getting better every minute."

Daniel canted his head inquisitively. "If I had to guess, I'd put Jolinar's possession of you as number one. Is number two the alien entity you tried to communicate with?"

Actually, Daniel remembered, that encounter had _also_ resulted in a possession of Carter's mind and body. She had definitely drawn the short straw in that department.

But to his surprise, Carter averted her eyes. And if he wasn't mistaken, a faint pink heated her cheeks. He supposed that it could have been a side effect of the Agonis, but it looked for all the world like she was blushing.

"Ah," she said, then cleared her throat. "I'd forgotten about that one. That would probably be fourth. The entity…that didn't really hurt, so much."

Interesting. Now Daniel was really curious as to what the second worst thing was that she'd ever been through. God knew there was no shortage of events to choose from, he thought sadly.

Despite her brave words, it was obvious that today's encounter had taken its toll on her. Carter's face was pale; even her lips seemed bloodless. She trembled minutely, curling her fingers into loose fists so they wouldn't betray her. Her breathing had slowed considerably, but her respirations were still shaky.

"You should rest," Daniel suggested.

"Indeed," Teal'c chimed in. "The effects of the Agonis will continue to be felt in the following days. No matter how trained a warrior, the force of the convulsions you suffered today will cause lasting fatigue in muscles you were not previously aware that you possessed."

Daniel grinned. "I think what Teal'c's trying to say is that your body's not used to such movements for such an extended period of time."

"Yeah," Carter sighed ruefully, "it's been awhile."

The comment earned a cryptic look from O'Neill, which Carter studiously ignored.

"You will need your strength," Teal'c continued, "especially if Polytus plans to inflict the Agonis upon you again."

Carter winced. "I remember him saying that."

"Yeah, well, we're going to talk about that," O'Neill said. "But Teal'c and Daniel are right; you need some rack time."

It was a testimony to how worn out Carter was that she didn't dispute the suggestion or try to pretend that she was fine. She merely rose – with Daniel's assistance – and went to lie down again on the pallet.

She was asleep within moments, and the three remaining team members gathered as quietly as possible in the front section of the cell. The light from the corridor was dim, and the dancing flames from the torches affixed to the walls cast wavering shadows into the cell and across O'Neill's face as he spoke in a low voice. "All right, Teal'c, spill. I've seen plenty of other women around here. Granted, probably none of them could disarm a naquada-enhanced bomb blindfolded, but they don't seem so bad. Why's this guy so obsessed with Carter? And more importantly, how do we stop it?"

"Now that I know the race we have encountered, I may have an answer, O'Neill. Years ago, when I first joined the ranks of Apophis, I was sent with a team of Jaffa to seek out planets with inhabitants that could be made into hosts…much as I was upon my first arrival on Earth."

Daniel looked down, remembering what had happened immediately after the time Teal'c spoke of. The Jaffa incursion on Earth had triggered a course of events that had resulted in Daniel's own wife, Sha're, to be taken as a host for Apophis' queen and also, eventually, in her death.

Perhaps sensing the drift of his friend's thoughts, Teal'c paused. In the larger man's eyes Daniel could still see the sorrow and regret for his role in those events.

The archaeologist's lips twitched in the ghost of a smile…a silent reassurance that he had long ago come to terms with the issue, and didn't blame Teal'c.

Teal'c's nod was a soundless acceptance of that reassurance, and he continued. "On one such excursion we encountered a group of aliens, whom I now believe must have been Nisians. We were outnumbered, and though we fought, we were captured quickly. When we resisted, we were punished by the Agonis.

"One of our number was a female, and it quickly became apparent that the Nisians were only interested in her. She was brought before the patrol's leader, who placed what appeared to be a stone on her skin."

O'Neill looked up sharply from the piece of straw he'd been winding around his fingers, over and over. "Like what that Rain guy put on Carter."

"Raynaal," Daniel corrected absently. "Teal'c, why didn't you tell us all of this yesterday?"

"The device Major Carter described was familiar to me, but I could not place the memory until after having witnessed Polytus discharge the Agonis."

"So what happened next?" Daniel asked.

"Nothing," the Jaffa replied. "They appeared disappointed with the results of their test; I overheard one of them say that our female companion was "not a match", and that he despaired of ever finding the correct complement mate for their master. Then we were released."

Daniel looked from Teal'c to O'Neill. "Correct complement mate," he repeated. "That must be what Polytus meant when he said he needed her. It must be some sort of propagation issue. Maybe he can only procreate with a woman of a certain genetic makeup." He paused, thinking. "Polytus said he _must_ have her. He meant literally…it can't be anyone else."

O'Neill sighed melodramatically. "Of course it can't. That's our Carter…one of a kind." He stopped fiddling with the piece of straw and tossed it to the ground, agitated by their predicament.

"So clearly, we're not going to be able to talk him out of it," Daniel said.

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed.

"Well, we'd better think of another way, then," O'Neill said, "because I don't want to see her go through that again. I want options, people."

They talked for the better part of an hour, batting ideas back and forth before each one was revealed to be unrealistic or otherwise impossibly flawed. Carter woke and joined them near the end, and they caught her up on what Teal'c had remembered. She came up with a few escape ideas of her own, but O'Neill moodily shot each one down.

"I keep coming back to tunnels," Daniel said.

"Like with Seth?" Carter asked, catching on quickly.

Daniel nodded. "If you'll remember, we went searching for _his_ because we knew that the ancient Egyptians built tunnels beneath their temples and pyramids."

"Yes, _we_ did know that," O'Neill said, referring to the fact that only Daniel ever possessed such random information.

Predictably, Daniel ignored him and plunged on. "And Teal'c confirmed that the system lords will often order tunnels constructed beneath their ships when grounded."

Teal'c regarded the archaeologist thoughtfully. "You believe this fortress may be located above such tunnels?"

Daniel shrugged. "Well, it's possible. There _are_ remnants of Egyptian culture, here. And knowing that the Goa'uld once possessed this planet makes it a bit more likely. But we won't know for sure unless we're allowed out of this cell to look for them. If they exist, my bet is that we'd find an entrance somewhere in the throne room of the Basileus."

"All right," O'Neill said discontentedly, obviously unhappy at the lack of options available to them. "It's the only thing we've got that even resembles a plan. In the morning when we're taken to the Boss Man guy, everyone keep their eyes open for anything that looks like a tunnel entrance. If we find it, be prepared to fight."

* * *


	4. Negotiations

**

* * *

**

Carter thought that it was a pretty pathetic excuse for a plan, but had to acknowledge that it was the only one they had. It quickly became apparent, however, that they weren't going to be given the chance to implement it.

After their escort delivered their allotment of paste-flavored breakfast on the following day, they stood aside as they had the morning before. When Colonel O'Neill attempted to exit the cell, however, one of the guards stepped forward to bar his path. "Only her," he said, indicating Carter.

Carter exchanged an anxious glance with Teal'c and Daniel. "See, now, that's just not going to work for us," O'Neill said.

"The Basileus was explicit," the guard replied, "only the woman has been summoned. The rest of you will begin work in the mine."

"Uh…is there any way we could talk to Polytus directly?" Daniel asked.

"He has no wish to see any of you but the woman. Stand back and let her pass."

No one moved. Teal'c's temple was throbbing as his jaw clenched and unclenched. It was the only outward sign of his agitation, but to those who knew him well it was a dangerous sign. "We will not allow you to take her," he stated.

"If you do not," the guard replied pragmatically, "you will be injured or killed, and she will still be taken."

Colonel O'Neill held out a palm in entreaty, stepping closer to both of the large men. "Hold on, now, Teal'c, let's not get crazy. The man's got a good point. Let's just all…"

He cut off abruptly, jabbing a sudden, vicious elbow into the guard's windpipe that sent him to his knees choking and clutching at his throat. The next guard had already taken his place, swinging his staff in to deliver a crushing blow to O'Neill's skull. But Teal'c caught the lethal end of the staff and yanked, pulling the second guard off balance and further into the cell. He landed directly in Carter's path and – despite the extreme muscle fatigue she felt from undergoing the Agonis the day before – she didn't hesitate to smash her kneecap into his face. She felt the snap of bone and cartilage and a wetness saturating her pant leg that told her she had broken his nose.

O'Neill had leaped over the first fallen man and made it into the corridor, where he tried to press their advantage. His biggest hindrance, however, was a distinct lack of fighting room. Both the cell and the hallway outside were close quarters; tiny, cramped spaces that did not lend themselves to solid kicks or fancy maneuvers. Also, the rest of his team was currently bottlenecked inside the cell, where they were unable to provide backup.

From too far away Carter watched as her commanding officer was overpowered by the two remaining guards. Their bulk did them justice here, where they had the advantage just by taking up more space. Carter and Daniel tried to get to him, but the first guard had regained his feet and tackled Teal'c directly in their path.

Out in the corridor, O'Neill went down. Carter's heart leapt into her throat as she craned to see him, but he was lost in the scuffle. Fearing what would happen to him, fearing grievous injuries to any member of her team, she did the only thing she could think of.

"Stop!" Carter called out desperately, and was a little surprised when everyone complied. The faces of the two guards in the hallway were turned toward her expectantly, and Teal'c had paused in the beating he was currently administering to the guard O'Neill had sucker punched. His clenched fist hung suspended in the moment before painful delivery. From the floor, where he had been grappling with the bloody-faced guard with the broken nose, Daniel looked up at her with a surprised expression and his glasses comically askew.

"Everyone stop," she repeated more quietly. "I'll go with you, and I won't fight you. Just let my friends go."

Teal'c was the first to comply. After a long moment in which he evaluated the situation, he reluctantly unclenched his fist – if not his jaw – and moved off of the downed guard, releasing him. Daniel absently straightened his glasses as he stood, and a moment later Colonel O'Neill was unceremoniously plucked up from the hallway floor and shoved back into the cell.

Carter could see a gash above his left eye, nearly on top of the scar that that eyebrow already sported. A trickle of blood dripped red tears onto his cheek, which he rubbed away with an irritated swipe of the back of his hand. He stepped toward her angrily. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Major?"

"Sir," she said quietly, hoping to forestall a dressing down, "there was no way. Not with us cooped up in here like this. We've got to wait for a better opportunity."

Carter looked at him meaningfully, hoping that he would remember the wording of his orders the night before. "I'll keep my eyes open."

He looked back at her silently for a long, assessing moment, and she could see his unwillingness to let her go. She knew how much he hated for any member of his team to become separated in a hostile situation. It wasn't that he didn't trust them to take care of themselves, but he always felt better when they were all present and safely accounted for. In that respect he was like a mother hen keeping an eye on all her chicks. Carter knew this about him, and could see that Colonel O'Neill understood all too well what he'd be sending her off to face, alone, and it went against everything in him to allow it. His dark eyes were worried, haunted and full of unease.

Moved, as she always was, by the amount of emotion the man could convey though just one look, Carter found herself wanting to comfort him. She smiled faintly and laid a hand on his arm, hoping that it would help him. But they both knew her reassurance was a hollow one; she could make no promises about returning unharmed.

After a prolonged hesitation, O'Neill finally nodded once, slowly, without ever breaking eye contact. It was Carter who finally looked away as she cast a lingering glance at Daniel and Teal'c, and then followed the guards from the cell.

* * *

Carter was taken to the throne room for the third time in as many days. By this point she was getting pretty damn tired of seeing it, and the man seated in the chair atop the dais. Actually, she was just damn tired, period.

She'd awoken that morning to a new torture, as all of her muscles screamed in protest of their treatment the day before. Each step now was a labor; she felt as if she'd been severely beaten. Carter had managed to hide most of her fatigue from her teammates, but had honestly half expected to see yellow and purple bruises mottling her skin when she examined herself for injuries. She'd been incredibly surprised by just how few there were, and attributed that fact to Colonel O'Neill, who she remembered cradling her protectively for the vast majority of the time she was inflicted by the Agonis.

Keeping that warming thought close to her heart, Carter stood before the dais and faced Polytus at parade rest. She gave every impression of attentiveness, but her eyes raked the room, missing nothing. With a critical eye she scanned the plush furnishings, looking for hidden passageways or trap doors in the floor that might lead to underground tunnels.

Her penetrating gaze returned to the dais, which – as it had been on the previous two days – was framed by great, billowing lengths of a material that reminded Carter of mosquito nets. They were so thick that the walls to either side of the dais were completely hidden from view. The material extended also to behind the throne, although Carter could see what looked like a slit in the fabric just behind the Basileus. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she filed the image away in her brain.

Polytus had been speaking to a servant upon Carter's arrival; now the servant moved to stand beside his throne and the ruler looked at her eagerly. She could feel his hungry gaze on her almost physically…not so much sexual in nature, as fanatically obsessive. In any case, she was still an object to this man, which automatically set her blood to boiling and made it difficult to confront him without anger.

His eyes shot immediately to her blood-drenched BDU pants and alarm crossed his face. "What has happened? Who has injured you?"

He looked to her guards angrily. "I ordered that she was not to be touched! You will all suffer for this disobedience!"

"They followed your orders. It's not my blood," Carter said, feeling the somewhat irrational urge to stick up for her escort. They were on opposite sides here, sure, and she _had_ just smashed one of their faces in, but they probably hadn't been given much of a choice, either. And they _had_ given fair warning to Teal'c that resistance would result in injury. Most importantly, once she'd agreed to go with them, they hadn't continued to harm the members of her team.

There was a beat while everyone in the room looked at Carter askance. The largest of the guards – a beefy, thick-necked hulk with close-cropped black hair – had an indiscernible expression on his face as he watched her.

Then the bloody-faced guard recovered himself and stepped forward. "Basileus. The injury was mine. The prisoners resisted."

Anger melted away into faint amusement. "And this _woman_ was able to best you?"

The bloody-faced guard stiffened further, looking uncomfortable. Already offended by the ruler's derisive dismissal of her ability to fight because of her gender, Carter once again felt the absurd inclination to come to the guard's defense. "If you'd come down off your power trip and face me one on one, I'd best you, too," she promised.

The Basileus shook his head ruefully. "If you would only agree to my request, none of this violence would be necessary."

"Your _request_?" Carter repeated incredulously. "The last time I checked, a _request_ is when you _ask_ something. You've done nothing but demand since I met you. Don't act like this is our fault. We came here in peace, to explore and trade. You began the hostilities when you took us prisoner."

"Perhaps we can yet come to a mutually beneficial arrangement," Polytus suggested. "I was just about to partake of my morning meal. Will you join me?"

Carter opened her mouth to object on principle, but then another thought struck her and she changed tactics in mid stride. "I will…if you also have some sent down to my team."

The Basileus smiled broadly, as if his conquest were now all but assured. "You see? We have agreed upon our first negotiation. See to it," he said to his servant, who nodded deeply and exited the room.

Polytus rose from his throne and descended the dais. He approached Carter and took her hand as if he were entitled; as if she were already one of his possessions.

Carter gritted her teeth and allowed him to lead her through the double doors, sparing one last fleeting glance at the slit in the fabric behind the throne.

* * *

"Fair's fair, Daniel," O'Neill said as he swung his pickaxe again. "You've gotten out of all the hard work every time we've been sent to the mines. The first time, you even got dinner and everything."

"Yes, well," Daniel countered, using the sharp end of his own tool to pry away a loose rock, "let's not forget that I was slowly having my soul sucked out by the sarcophagus. It's not like it was all sunshine and daisies, where I was."'

"More like steak and potatoes," O'Neill grumbled, and Daniel knew that he was taking his frustration and worry about Carter out on the rocks. "Man, what I wouldn't give for a cold beer, about now."

Next to him, Teal'c swung his pickaxe with the regularity of a metronome. The Jaffa seemed indefatigable, earning no small amount of sidelong glances from the Nisian workers around them. "O'Neill," he said, never breaking his rhythm, "would alcohol not dehydrate you further?"

"That's not the point, T," O'Neill declared, pausing for a moment as he regained his breath. "The point is, it would be cold. And refreshing. And did I mention cold?"

"Water," Daniel said.

Without turning around, O'Neill shook his head and took another swing. "Nah. Water's just not the same."

"No," Daniel tried again, "we're being given water." He tugged on O'Neill's elbow to get his attention. When the Colonel turned around, Daniel indicated the visitor who stood on the worn dirt path next to them, pushing a small, wheeled cart that contained a bucket of water. She was a small-boned woman, appearing petite and delicate inside the rough tunic she wore. Her hair was dark, and long enough to have warranted being wound into the functional bun on the back of her head. By her side was the small form of the boy they had seen each of the previous two days; he held a cup of water out to Daniel.

Daniel took it with a smile and a nod. "Thank you," he said. "It's Aziz, isn't it?"

The boy nodded shyly, glancing quickly back at the woman. She smiled tentatively and offered cups of water to Teal'c and O'Neill.

"Is this what you do?" Daniel asked, waving a hand over the cart. "You bring water to the workers?"

The woman bobbed her head to indicate agreement, before meeting his eyes again. "I am Thalia. Aziz is my son."

"I'm Daniel; this is Jack O'Neill and Teal'c. Thank you for sending Aziz with the water, yesterday," Daniel said. "It was appreciated."

"How is the woman?" Thalia wanted to know.

Daniel exchanged a worried glance with Teal'c, but Colonel O'Neill wouldn't meet his eyes. Daniel turned back to Thalia. "She's with Polytus right now."

The skin around Thalia's eyes creased as her lips tightened. The expression was a poor attempt at a smile that ended up more as a wince. "I hope that she agrees to be his queen," she said. "Otherwise, she will suffer the Agonis again."

O'Neill handed his empty cup back to Thalia perfunctorily, as if somehow she were partly responsible for Carter's torture. "She'll never agree," he said flatly.

Daniel flinched at O'Neill's hard tone. "Actually, I've been thinking maybe she should."

"What?" the Colonel demanded.

"Well, I was thinking about your idea. The one you had the day we got here. You know, with the…er…oven?" Daniel shot a glance at Thalia and Aziz, still standing beside them. "Maybe we should try it. I think it's worth the risk…I hated having to see her go through that. I don't think I realized how bad it was going to be."

O'Neill turned away again to take a vicious swing at the face of the rock wall. "Yeah, well, she's tough," he said, not fooling Daniel at all with his indifference as he took another swing. "She can handle it."

"On the contrary, O'Neill," Teal'c interjected, "It will become more painful with each application. We should not have let the guards take her."

"No choice, T," O'Neill said, pounding away at the rocks like he could shatter the foundation of their prison and lead them all to safety. "She knew what she was doing."

Thalia had followed the conversation with a look of confusion on her face. Daniel could see that she didn't understand half of what had been said. Suddenly he felt bad for the less-than-polite treatment she'd received from O'Neill. He smiled in apology. "Where we come from, what Polytus is doing is wrong. It wouldn't be permitted. We were trying to think of ways to convince him to stop."

"He will not," Thalia said. "I am sorry for the pain he will inflict upon her, but I cannot help but hope that it will make her agree to stay."

_That_ got O'Neill's attention again, and he spun around with an angry glint in his eyes. It was the same look he always got when he felt that behavior exhibited by other cultures had just crossed the line from "who cares what these wacky aliens do?" to "what the hell is wrong with these people?", and Daniel just _knew_ that the Colonel was about to launch into one of his holier-than-thou tirades.

He opened his mouth to try and head it off before it got started, but Thalia – oblivious – was going on in a small, quiet voice that forced all three men to be silent in order to hear her. "She seemed kind. I believe that she must have a good heart."

O'Neill paused, withholding his judgement for the moment, listening.

"An uncaring woman would not wave at a small child she did not know," Thalia said, her voice rising with hope. "Perhaps, if she agrees to be Queen, her compassion will temper the Basileus' rule, and he would be more merciful."

Daniel cast a quick glimpse at O'Neill, whose eyes were downcast now, concealing his expression. Daniel was just as familiar with this tactic as he was with the older man's moods. The Colonel was a man with a very expressive face, which he used primarily to enhance his sarcastic remarks. But years of military training had enabled him to school his features into a nearly impenetrable, impassive mask, when needed. It was this distinct _lack_ of expression that O'Neill exhibited when being questioned by the enemy, when it was necessary to concentrate on a delicate task, or when he felt there was no room for emotions. In fact, he was so seemingly adept at turning off his feelings on command that Daniel had, on several occasions in the past, been under the mistaken impression that O'Neill just didn't _have_ any.

The last five years had taught him better, though, and he recognized the head-ducking procedure for what it was. The one, single thing that could provide a window into Jack O'Neill's emotions were his eyes. Given enough time to prepare, he could make even _them_ go flat and hard, such as the time he'd had to go undercover in order to expose the rogue NID operation that was stealing technology from Earth's allies. He'd fooled them all then, because he'd had to. But it took time; he needed to prepare. Because at the core, Colonel O'Neill was a man of intense convictions. Daniel knew that he _felt_ just as much as anyone, if not more. And right now Daniel knew that Thalia's perception of the kind of person Carter was had struck a nerve in the Colonel. It had made him feel things that he didn't think he should, and so – in classic Jack O'Neill fashion – he hid it from those around him until he could get it under control.

Daniel also looked down, partly out of respect for O'Neill's privacy, and partly to reflect yet again on unfair it was that this man, who'd already lost and given up so much for others on a consistent basis, wasn't permitted to have the one thing he really wanted.

The "thing" between Carter and O'Neill, as Daniel had come to think of it, had been present for a long while…so tangible sometimes that it almost felt like a fifth member of the team. Daniel could recall innumerable occasions just in the last year alone where their mutual feelings swam close to the surface, without ever quite breaching. It was a known quantity; everyone was aware of it, but no one spoke of it. Least of all Jack or Sam. Both were too firmly immersed in the military aspect of their personas to allow their own wants or needs to take precedence.

Daniel felt irritated by them, at times, for letting rules on some piece of paper somewhere stand between them, but mostly he just felt sorry for them both. He'd felt sorry for Sam when she'd worked herself to the brink of exhaustion for three months, breaking the laws of physics in order to bring O'Neill back from Edora. His heart had broken at the look on her face when O'Neill brushed her off, having grown attached to the woman, Laira, and the life that he'd built there. Daniel had winced in sympathy each time a new man was attracted to Carter's brilliance and beauty, and O'Neill was forced to pretend that it didn't bother him.

He wished that he could somehow make it better for them, but the problems weren't really external. The problem was that each of them possessed a selflessness that simply wouldn't _allow_ them to give in and take the easy way. They were both needed right now, right where they were, and they knew it. All else would have to come second. It was just who they were.

Daniel's thoughts were interrupted by a creaky, crunching sound. He looked over to see one of the palace servants approaching them, propelling a cart of her own that shuddered over the gravelly path. This one, however, was laden with various foodstuffs, including meats and cheeses and fruit, and something that resembled scrambled eggs.

The servant pushing the cart came to a stop beside them, bowing to the members of SG-1. "Upon the request of our future queen, my lord Basileus has commanded that you be provided with this food."

She bowed again as Aziz and Thalia's eyes widened in identical expressions of amazement. Daniel sadly realized that it had probably been a good long while – if ever – since they'd seen (much less eaten) food such as this. He looked at O'Neill, then at Teal'c, and they both looked back at him with the same thought mirrored in their eyes. All three men turned back to the servant as one. "Give it to the workers," O'Neill said.

The servant looked startled, and the guards nearby tensed as if they might intervene. But as O'Neill snagged something from the cart that looked a lot like grapes, then handed them to Aziz, the guards relaxed. O'Neill ruffled the boy's hair with a small smile, and Daniel poured a cup of liquid from the amphora. He sniffed it experimentally, deciding from its aroma that it was diluted wine, as he'd expected. He offered the cup to Thalia, who took it with a large, bright smile. "You see?" she said, joy in her expression. "Already she makes things better!"

As Daniel looked out over the mass of workers crowding around them to taste a sample of an unattainable life, his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

* * *

_a/n: Thanks to everyone who's taken the time to review, so far…I really appreciate the feedback! I thought I'd take the opportunity to answer a couple of questions:_

_1)A couple people have asked why Sam just doesn't say she's already married. Well, that topic actually **will** be broached in Chapter 5. There's a genuine reason for the story, but the **real** reason is that I hate writing things that have already been written splendidly by someone else. In this case, **jojo6** has written two fabulous stories along just those lines (S/J oriented, natch), called "Introducing Mr. and Mrs. O'Neill" and "Marteen". I recommend that everyone go read them. Now ;)_

_2) Regarding the shippiness content…I apologize to those of you who desire a more general story than a J/S – centric one. While I do enjoy devoting time and thought into making my stories viable and interesting, I must confess that at their core they are romance-gratification fics. You can be assured that there will be **lots** of focus on Jack and Sam as the fic progresses. _

_Okay…see, this is why I don't do author's notes. Thanks again for reading, everyone. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the next will be up tomorrow._

* * *


	5. Punishment and Plotting

* * *

"Come," Polytus chided, gesturing toward Carter's plate, "you must eat to keep up your strength."

Carter ceased picking at the generous meal she'd been provided and laid the fork-like utensil down next to her plate. "It's just that there's not much point in eating, when I'll only throw it up again after today's torture session."

Polytus had seemed to be trying very hard to make nice with her, attempting to veil the ugly ruthlessness of his actions with bribery, pretty words and a gentle manner. But Carter was refusing to play along.

The Basileus winced. "I regret what must be done. But remember, it could all be avoided if only you would agree to be my queen."

Carter remained silent, staring fixedly at her food. Behind her, the ever-present guards stood silently. No sounds at all filtered into the extravagant, over-done banquet room and Carter's thoughts were on her team.

Polytus tried again, "I promise, you would never lack for anything, here. My people would love and revere you, as would I. You would be free to pursue your own interests, and you would love our children, for they would be as much yours as mine." He looked at her earnestly until she met his gaze. "Surely the boon I ask is not so unreasonable. You could be very happy here…as happy as you could be anywhere. I, on the other hand, have no choice. I need you; it can't be anyone else."

The scientist in Carter perked up, despite the situation. "Your 'correct complement mate', right?"

Polytus looked surprised for a moment, but then nodded. "I see you are already familiar with my dilemma, then."

"Only a little," she said. "That for some reason your people can only procreate with certain genetic partners?"

"Not all of my people," Polytus corrected, "only my line. You see, there was something in the blood of my forefathers that set them apart from everyone else. Somehow, they were unlike the others. There are ancient tales in which the ancestors of our people came from a distant land, brought here by a small group who were different. Special. As the legend tells it, there were two leaders among this group, and they did not agree. One took half of the people as followers and sailed for Bretin."

Carter frowned, unfamiliar with the term. "Bretin?"

"Another of Nete's continents, far away from Nisia," Polytus explained. He continued, "one of the remaining group became the first ruler of Nisia, and the first of my line. But ever since that time, those of my lineage have only been able to produce heirs with others who complement them."

"Others with this 'something' in their blood," Carter clarified.

"Yes," Polytus answered, appearing pleased that she understood. "But the number of complements dwindled with each passing generation. There simply were not enough descendants of the original group to continue to propagate, even after they began taking kin as mates."

Carter fought the urge to grimace. Though _she_ found such close marriages distasteful and abnormal, she'd learned enough from Daniel over the past four and a half years to know that such inbreeding had been both common and expected even up through the nineteenth century back on Earth, especially among royalty.

"And now, there are no others left to choose from?" Carter guessed.

"That is correct," Polytus replied grimly, then paused and looked at her again with a light in his eyes. "It has been nearly a decade since I began searching for a suitable complement mate; you are the first I have found. You understand now, of course, why I cannot allow you to leave?"

Carter had a hard time meeting the intensity of his gaze, but forced herself not to look away. "I can understand, but I don't agree with your methods. Look, I'm a scientist. One of my jobs is to try to find solutions to impossible problems like this. And there are people back on my planet who know _way_ more than me about genetics. If you'd just let us return through the stargate, we might be able to find a way to help you."

The Basileus was shaking his head. "I cannot. I would have no guarantee of your return. I am sorry."

Carter blew an exasperated breath between her lips, then tried another suggestion. "What about Bretin? Have you gone to look there? It's entirely possible that more descendants of the original group survived there than in Nisia, or that they found a way around it."

The light in his eyes shifted, became something less pleasant, and Carter was left with the distinct impression that she'd said something wrong. "The Bretins are sworn enemies of Nisia," Polytus said tightly. "They are a scourge upon the planet…a wretched people. We have been at war for centuries. Fortunately, my spies tell me that the Basileus of Bretin is suffering from a similar problem. It has been well-known for some time that he has been unable to locate a suitable complement match. As he is considerably older than I, it is my hope that I will succeed where he fails.

"But," he continued, "even if there were a thousand complement women available there, I would not consider taking one as a mate. I would rather my line end here, uncontaminated by such filth."

"But you'd end my life, first," Carter said angrily.

Polytus stared back at her. "I do not wish it," he said simply, and Carter believed him. In his own, twisted way, she knew that he didn't really _want_ to kill her. In his mind it was her own rigid refusal to submit that would result in her death.

Her voice was just as even, when she replied. Almost conversational. "And I refuse to be forced into marriage."

"Then we are at an impasse," he said regretfully, "and again there is only one recourse available to me."

With those ominous words, he gestured to one of his attendants, who left to retrieve the instrument of the Agonis.

* * *

It was worse this time.

That was O'Neill's first, horrified thought when the guards carried her in, only minutes after they themselves had been returned to their cell.

Clearly the second application of the Agonis was – as Teal'c had promised – even more painful than the first. Carter convulsed uncontrollably in the arms of her escort; it took all four of them to restrain her. Unavoidably, the thought of using the guards' preoccupation as a distraction in order to escape flickered across O'Neill's mind, but the tactical situation was even worse than it had been that morning. Even if the standing members of SG-1 were able to overcome the guards, they'd never get out of there with Carter in the condition she was. And there was no way in hell he was leaving her here.

And so instead of attacking the guards, O'Neill, Teal'c and Daniel stood back and let them enter the cell bearing the fallen Major. There wasn't really enough room, but O'Neill still managed to squeeze in between two of the bruisers to reach his second in command, slipping his arms under her shoulders and back.

The guards gave her up willingly, and with far more care for her person than O'Neill would have expected. There was no time to spare a thought for the oddity, however; Teal'c had already taken her legs. They carried her into the back section of the cell again, and resumed their positions from the day before: O'Neill sitting on the pallet with Carter on her side facing away from him, more or less in his lap. Daniel and Teal'c were left with the task of keeping her lower half from flailing as much as possible.

Carter's suffering the day before had obviously been acute, but because she'd managed to repress most vocalizations of pain, O'Neill had forced himself to believe that it wasn't _too_ bad. That it wasn't unbearable. He hadn't known if he could believe otherwise and stand it. Now there was no choice. This time she couldn't hide the agony she was going through. She choked and gagged and was barely able to keep from screaming. Instead of the occasional whimper forcing itself past her lips, she uttered pitiful, heart-rending cries that indicated nothing short of excruciating torment.

"Oh," she gasped once, her eyes clenched shut as she shuddered violently. "G…God, please. Make it…make it stop. Please!"

O'Neill gritted his teeth and blinked rapidly, fighting to keep the hot moisture collecting in his eyes from spilling over. He tried to soothe her, to talk her through it, but whatever reasoning, rational portion of her mind that had surfaced long enough to speak had already been overwhelmed again by mindless reactions to the pain. "When we get out of this," he bit out, trembling from helplessness and homicidal rage, "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch, I swear to God."

"You will be hard pressed to find him alive, O'Neill," Teal'c swore, "as I will seek him out to deliver punishment at the first opportunity." The Jaffa's solid muscles were rock hard and clenched beneath the short sleeves of his black tee shirt as he held Carter's legs immobile, and the deadly look on his face was frightening.

"You know," Daniel said, struggling to keep Carter's back flat on the pallet, "this is normally where I'd jump in and try to calm you both down, advocating a less violent course of action."

O'Neill glanced over at the archaeologist, noting that the younger man had made no attempt to check his own tears of impotent sympathy. "Yeah?" the Colonel challenged.

Daniel's face was hard. "Not this time."

* * *

When it was over, Carter lay limp and unresponsive. Her teammates tried for the better part of a half an hour to revive her, growing ever more worried, but the Agonis had obviously exhausted her. O'Neill eventually decided that perhaps it was best that she slept, anyway. He continued to cradle her in his arms as they spoke quietly around her, and no one suggested that she be moved.

"We've got to make sure they take us with her tomorrow morning," Daniel said. "I don't think she can take another day of this."

Teal'c had a decidedly unhappy look on his face. True, it didn't really look a whole lot different from his "everything's groovy" face, but O'Neill could tell the difference. "I agree," the Jaffa said.

A distinctly _bad_ feeling had been growing in the Colonel's gut ever since Carter's return, like an alien parasite now poised to erupt through his chest, and suddenly he recalled the reason for it. "Teal'c, you said yesterday that if this thing is used too much it can kill?"

Teal'c nodded, and O'Neill went on. "Is that what's going to happen to Carter if Polly-wants-a-wife up there doesn't stop?"

The Jaffa paused, then nodded again slowly. "It will. Similar to shots from a zatnikitel, the effects of the Agonis accumulate in the biological systems of the victim. If enough time is not permitted to pass between sessions, the victim will die from the overload."

"Uh…exactly how do you know this?" Daniel wanted to know. "I thought you were released after they determined the female Jaffa on your team wasn't a match?"

"Indeed we were," Teal'c replied. "However, we were not the only captives of the Nisians at that time. We were held there for nearly a week as the females from each group were tested before us. We did not yield, and so were punished until that time. One of my number did not survive the experience."

"What I need to know is, how much more of this can she take?" O'Neill asked.

"The Jaffa killed by the Agonis did not die until the fourth shot," Teal'c said gravely, "But Major Carter is not Jaffa."

They all fell silent for a moment as they contemplated the implication in Teal'c's statement. If four shots killed a Jaffa, then in all likelihood Carter would not survive three.

"God!" Daniel finally burst out, unable to restrain his frustrated anger any longer. "I wish Polytus would just…I don't know, use that thing on one of us instead, or something, and give her a break."

"Shut up!" Carter croaked, startling them. O'Neill looked down at her, only then noticing that he'd been stroking her hair with one hand while she slept. Now the hand twitched away as if scalded, and he settled it more appropriately on her shoulder.

He was surprised at the uncharacteristic tone she'd taken with the archaeologist. She and Daniel had to have one of the most easy-going relationships the Colonel had ever seen. They were simpatico to the extreme. If Carter weren't under O'Neill's command (consequently _having_ to agree with him), he was pretty sure SG-1 would frequently be split up into two distinct halves: O'Neill and Teal'c on one side and Carter and Daniel on the other. He couldn't even be completely sure that they'd ever argued; he'd certainly never heard her tell Daniel to shut up before. "Carter?"

Her voice was weak and her throat obviously dry, but there was no mistaking the vehemence behind her words. Her eyes burned feverishly at Daniel. "Don't say that again! God, I've been hoping that possibility doesn't occur to him."

Teal'c cocked his head. "Major Carter, it would provide you with much-needed relief from the Agonis. Additionally, such a measure may serve to purchase a longer interval in which we might effect an escape."

"I think what Teal'c means is that it might buy us some time, Carter."

O'Neill felt her shaking her head against his thigh. Her voice, when she spoke, was much quieter, as if she were worried about being overheard. "You don't understand, sir. As long as it's just me, I'm the only one who gets hurt when I refuse. If he threatens one of you, I…I'd have to give him what he wants."

Now that she'd outlined her reasoning, it made perfect sense to O'Neill. Putting her own life in jeopardy was one thing, but he knew that she'd never risk the lives of her team if she could ensure their safety. In her position, he'd do the same thing.

Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't be perfectly willing to undermine every single one of her principles if it meant getting her off this backwater planet alive, and he held the idea as a last-resort backup plan in his mind.

Daniel had left and returned with water that they'd saved for her, and he tipped it gently into her mouth after O'Neill helped her to sit up, leaning her back against his chest and shoulder.

As Carter took an experimental sip, Daniel glanced at O'Neill and Teal'c, as if seeking approval to go on. O'Neill nodded at him, and Daniel cleared his throat in preparation. "Actually, Sam…we were talking about that today. About maybe going with Jack's plan of agreeing until we can get out of here."

Carter was already shaking her head in obstinate denial, and Daniel held up a hand to ward off the retort springing to her lips. "Wait…wait just a second…just hear me out. We've been talking, and we don't think you can take another shot from that thing. Teal'c said a friend of his, another Jaffa, died after the fourth. And honestly, Sam, after watching its effects on you over the past two days, I don't think you'll make it through three."

"Why, because I'm a woman?" Carter asked angrily.

"No," Teal'c replied. "Because you are human, and do not possess the healing powers of the Goa'uld symbiote that Jaffa carry."

The clarification calmed her; O'Neill could feel her tense muscles relax beneath his hands. She took a deep breath that brought more of her back in contact with his chest, and then exhaled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so upset. It's just…I know you mean well. I know you're trying to keep me alive, and I appreciate that. But I'm not willing to capitulate to the demands of a terrorist, no matter what he does to me."

"But you would if it were one of _us _about to die," Daniel reiterated. His tone suggested reproach for her double standard. "You'd be willing to do anything if it meant keeping us safe…can't you understand that we feel the same way?"

Carter dropped her gaze, apparently unable to meet his eyes. "Of course I understand. But as long as I'm the only one in danger, here, the choice should be mine. And I refuse to give in to someone who thinks that torture and hostage-taking is going to get him what he wants. Polytus is so used to having all the power that he can't even conceive of a woman rejecting him. Well, I won't submit, and he _will_ get that through his head."

"Even if it means your death?" Daniel asked.

Carter's gaze didn't waver this time. "If that's what it takes."

O'Neill recognized a stalemate when he saw one, and decided to step in. "Look, Carter…I'm not saying I don't agree with you on principle. I do. And I'm not trying to step on your cute little feminist toes, here, but let's not forget that I'm your commanding officer. I've got a responsibility to keep my team alive, and if that means that you might have to eat a little pride before this is over, then so be it."

He felt her breathing against him, slow and steady now, and it reassured him that she was okay, for the moment. "If that's what it comes to, sir," she repeated, her use of the honorific making it clear that she would only do so if ordered.

Teal'c had been silent over the course of this exchange, apparently thinking. "Could we not tell Polytus that Major Carter is already bonded?"

"What," Daniel asked, "you mean lie?

The Jaffa shot Daniel an inscrutable look. Actually, most of Teal'c's looks were inscrutable, but O'Neill was pretty sure that this particular expression was one he adopted to keep from saying "You're a dumbass." As the one usually on the receiving end of this look, O'Neill felt uniquely qualified to identify it when he saw it. "Our falsehood would appear to be the lesser of two evils," Teal'c pointed out.

Though still reclining against O'Neill's chest, Carter tried to metaphorically get back up on her soapbox again. "I shouldn't have to tell him I'm already married! What he's doing is…"

"Aah!" O'Neill interrupted her, squeezing the shoulder his hand rested on. "What did I just say? Besides, you're preaching to the choir, here."

She fell silent again, and O'Neill went on. "I've actually been thinking about that myself, though. It might..."

"It wouldn't work," Daniel interrupted, shaking his head.

O'Neill stared at him. "That's it? It wouldn't work? You don't think it might be worth at least _trying_, first?"

"Jack, look around you! Look at this place. Polytus has got _slaves_ in the mines. He's torturing Sam to death. If he's willing to _kill_ her to get what he wants when she says no, do you really think he'd care about marriage licenses or wedding rings, if we even _had_ those things here?"

O'Neill had no argument and looked away. A moment later he heard Daniel sigh. "I'm sorry," the archaeologist said. "I'm just a little…this whole thing's just…" He waved a hand to encompass the cell, indicating their entire situation.

"It's all right, Daniel," Carter said, and her voice was much softer now in the wake of his obvious frustrated concern.

"Yeah," O'Neill added, "I know better than to take it personally when you yell at me…even when it's personal."

Daniel managed a half-hearted smile in response, and O'Neill forced himself to be satisfied with that. Keeping morale at optimum levels in this sort of situation was going to be impossible; he'd have to be happy with whatever he could manage. Luckily, Teal'c was nearly always even-keeled and required minimal maintenance (unless their mission had to do with A) his family, B) Bray'tac, or C) a Jaffa revenge thing, in which case all bets were off). His 2IC, however, was another matter.

"Now," O'Neill said to Carter, "I know you didn't eat your mush this morning, so we saved you some of the food you sent down. The other workers were very appreciative, by the way."

The corners of her lips twitched for a moment, as if she'd meant to smile but didn't have the energy. "That's good, sir. But I'm not hungry."

Teal'c had retrieved several pieces of fruit for Carter's selection, but she shook her head and turned her face away.

"Don't make me make it an order, Major," O'Neill said. He aimed for a light tone, but didn't attempt to disguise the undercurrent of command in it.

"I can't, sir. If I eat, I'll be sick."

Well. He couldn't really argue with that one either, now, could he? "All right…maybe later." He nodded to Teal'c, who placed the platter of food out of the way. "You should get some rest, then."

Carter yawned, and O'Neill knew he should lay her down. But she had thus far appeared surprisingly unmotivated to move out of his half-embrace, and if she wasn't going to bring attention to the fact that he shouldn't be holding her this way, then who was he to?

"Oh…I got Polytus to talk to me a little this morning about the history of this planet. Apparently they were brought here by these Goa'uld who separated into two houses…"

"Both alike in melodrama," O'Neill interrupted. "Yeah, we got the lowdown from the other workers. And this _something_ that makes their descendants so special has got to be naquada."

"Which explains why he's so fixated on Sam," Daniel agreed. "There are a couple of things I'm not clear on, though, like why they never left again? Or at the very least, why didn't they bring a sarcophagus with them? I just can't imagine why any Goa'uld would deliberately isolate himself…or themselves, in this case…from the rest of the universe, and not even bring enough technology along to keep them alive."

"Perhaps they did not intend to remain on this planet?" Teal'c suggested.

"It's possible," Daniel conceded. "Or maybe there was some sort of accident, and the sarcophagus was destroyed, too?"

"Yeah, well…the whys and wherefores don't really matter so much right now," O'Neill said, indicating Carter with a slight jerk of his chin. Daniel got the hint and made to leave so that she could rest.

"One more thing," Carter said sleepily into O'Neill's shoulder. "Daniel, I think you might be right about the tunnels."

Daniel had been heading for the front section of the cell, but he swung back at her words. "Did you see the entrance?"

"Maybe," Carter said, "but I can't be sure. You remember all of that gauzy stuff around Polytus' throne?"

When Daniel nodded, she went on, "There's a break in the material directly behind it. I couldn't see back there, but it's in a good place, if he were to need to escape the fortress in a hurry."

"That's good, Sam, that's promising."

"We must endeavor to be taken along with Major Carter when the guards return in the morning," Teal'c said. "Our plan of escape will only work if we are all present."

* * *


	6. Confessions

* * *

_a/n: Alas...this is probably where I'll lose all of the anti-ship people ;) Sorry! I promisethis chapter'sonly a little oasis of shippiness until we get back to the main thrust of the story._

* * *

Much later, long after the sounds of the other workers settling in for the night had lapsed into silence and only the faintest light made its way into the rear of the cell, Samantha Carter opened her eyes. 

After years of bunking out in the open and / or on alien worlds, she had become very adept at snapping to consciousness and assessing her situation within mere moments. This time, however, a strong sense of disorientation swept through her, mingling with the post-Agonis nausea that hadn't yet abated. She spent at least a full minute trying to battle down the urge to vomit before it struck her that she wasn't alone.

She was sitting more or less upright, reclining slightly upon her left shoulder and arm. Her knees were bent, legs drawn up as she huddled snugly into the warmth that surrounded her.

And surrounded by it she was. Carter belatedly became aware that the left side of her torso was currently burrowed up against a solid chest. The owner of said chest also possessed two strong arms; one of which was draped across her waist so that that hand rested on her back, and the other was wrapped around her shoulders, grasping her upper right arm firmly to ensure her placement.

Her first, fleeting inclination was to push away from whatever stranger held her so intimately, and she actually jerked minutely with that intention. A moment later, however, reason caught up with instinct and she realized that rather than feeling restrained, she felt secure and protected. The arms around her were sustaining her position, not confining her. It had been a long while since Carter had been held by a man like this, but there was no denying that it was, in fact, a man.

Her head rested on his right shoulder, her face was nestled into his neck, and she could feel the slight weight of his head resting gently atop her own. Within the fuzzy cocoon of warmth, far from fully awake, Carter deeply inhaled the oddly familiar, comforting scent and felt contentment fill her. This was…nice. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this safe, and cared for, and she relished the moment in her drowsy state.

That all changed a moment later when a low rumble in the chest she was pressed against reverberated through her, and Colonel O'Neill's voice breathed past her ear, "Go back to sleep."

Any vestiges of slumber fled immediately and all of Carter's limbs jolted as if she'd been electrified. At once she began trying to extricate herself from him, her face burning. "Colonel! I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to…"

O'Neill tightened his arms in response, keeping her where she was. "Save your strength, Carter," he said, stilling her. "That's an order."

Carter paused indecisively as a million thoughts raced through her suddenly very lucid mind. Firstly, this could definitely be considered fraternization, of a sort, and so they were breaking regulations. But it wasn't as if they were at home cuddling on his couch, or something right? She was being subjected to daily torture sessions, and he was doing the only thing he could to help her…right?

And okay, they faced the possibility of death on a weekly basis, and so her impending demise as an excuse was a rather shaky one, but the chance that she wouldn't live through the next twenty-four hours was extremely likely, this time. That didn't really make it okay, but it did make Carter just a _little_ less inclined to care if they followed each and every single proper military decorum, just now. And besides, he _had_ ordered her to save her strength, and she'd definitely expend more energy pulling away from him. So…since he'd put it that way…

Carter relaxed against him, telling herself that all of her rationalizations were correct and logical. While she was at it, she pretended that she didn't enjoy being basically curled up in his lap, or the way his chin came to rest against her temple as he made himself comfortable against her again. Nope. Not at all.

She briefly envisioned trying to explain this one to Hammond. "_I'm sorry, General, but Colonel O'Neill ordered me to snuggle with him. And you know I always follow orders, sir."_

She turned a snort into a cough, then tried to steer her mind from the direction in which it had gone. "Have you been awake this whole time, sir?"

"In and out," was his quiet reply, and then a teasing tone entered his voice. "You snore, Major."

She wanted to laugh, but she was just too damn tired. "Do not," she said, adopting indignation. "Sir."

He chuckled, and she felt it vibrate in his chest even stronger than when he spoke. She closed her eyes and tried not to concentrate on how much she liked it, failing spectacularly.

"Since you _are_ awake," he said a minute later, "I've been meaning to ask you…"

"Mmm?"

"Well it's just that…we've gone on a lot of bad missions since the stargate program started up. Been through a lot of crappy things. I mean, we've been shot, stabbed, frozen, unfrozen, implanted with Goa'ulds. Hell, we've even been dead. And now this. This is pretty bad, Carter. And I guess Daniel just got me wondering…what's number two on your list of things you'd never want to go through again? What could possibly be worse than this?"

His query had blown away the cobwebs of sleep that had begun to reform in her mind, and the answer to it kick-started her heart, making it thud, thud, thud in her chest and in her throat. He must have felt it, because he immediately rushed to retract his question. "Never mind…you don't have to…"

"It wasn't so much physical trauma that I was thinking of, I guess," she interrupted softly, "as emotional. That can be a lot harder to live through."

O'Neill was silent, and Carter knew that he was probably thinking of Charlie. For the second time that day Carter wanted to comfort him…to somehow alleviate the pain in his heart. But she couldn't, and so she had to settle for shifting slightly so that her cheek brushed his neck. Her right hand slipped down to rest on his chest.

She debated with herself for a minute about whether or not she really wanted to answer his question; it would mean revealing more than she'd ever allowed herself to, before. The thought of saying it was her mother's death flitted across her mind - it would be perfectly reasonable and she knew that he'd accept it without question, thereby leaving her innermost thoughts unknown - but she just couldn't. Yes, her mother's death had been traumatic, absolutely. And yes, she still missed her. But that grief was two decades old and - while it wasn't something that could be really gotten over - it had become a part of her long ago. More recent pains, however, were still hard to live with. They were the ones she still occasionally woke with in the night.

Withall of her previous reasons for giving in to this one moment of intimacy clamoring for attention again in her mind, she made the decision.

"Edora," she said finally. "That was worse. Every day of it…not knowing if you were all right. If you were dead, or hurt, or lost somewhere. For three months I couldn't think straight. But at the same time I couldn't stop thinking about how we'd had to leave you behind. I couldn't eat or sleep. Sometimes it felt like I couldn't breathe. Not until I could find a way to get to you."

Carter closed her eyes, unable to finish without hiding herself from him somehow. Into the darkness she whispered, "I'd rather go through this every day for the rest of my life than go through that again."

She held her breath in the wake of her revelation, a little terrified of his reaction. She wasn't blind, or stupid; she knew that he cared for her. It was an unshakeable fact, impossible to deny after each of the multiple events over the past year that had provided a window into his emotions. And she was _fairly_ sure that he'd already known how she felt about him, too. But knowing and not acknowledging it were a far cry from what she'd just done.

When several long, heavy moments had quietly slipped by, Carter began to feel as if she'd just made a huge mistake. It was her turn to apologize. "Sir, I know that was out of line. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"Shhh," he said. He had turned his head a little so that his words were whispered into her hair. "Be still."

The arm draped across her waist lifted and Carter missed its presence there until she felt his fingertips trace lightly down the right side of her face before sliding back into her hair at the base of her skull so that his palm cupped her neck just below the ear. In this way he held her to him for a long, sweet moment that brought a sting to Carter's eyes. She bit her lip to hold back everything else she wanted to say and just savored the moment.

She wasn't sure how much later it was when he finally stirred again, but it felt like hours. He slid his hand down to her shoulder, then dropped it again to rest on her waist. "Go back to sleep, Sam."

She closed her eyes and prepared to comply, but there was just one more thing…

"Sir…the last two days…when I was in the grip of that thing…it's helped to have you all here," she said shyly, stumbling over the admission. "I can't think through it, but I can hear you guys, and feel you. And it's helped when you held me the way you have. It sort of…keeps me grounded. Keeps me here. If I _don't_ die tomorrow, can you…?"

"I'll hold on to you," O'Neill promised her. "I won't let you go."

* * *

"She's not breathing. She's not breathing!" Daniel shouted. At O'Neill's signal he scrambled back down and interlaced the fingers of his hands, one on top of the other as he pressed the heel of the bottommost palm to Carter's chest. He waited, poised above her, as the Colonel tilted Carter's head back and sealed his mouth over hers, breathing for her.

When he'd given the proper number of breaths, he nodded urgently to Daniel. "Go!"

Daniel began pumping her heart, allowing all of his weight to drive his stiff, straight arms up and down like a piston. His mind was nearly blank; all he could think was _please_, _please_, _please_, in time with his repetitions.

The escort had come for her again that morning, predictable as the sunrise. Daniel, Teal'c and O'Neill had undertaken every desperate effort they could think of in order to be taken with her, but they were all to no avail. Carter had been nearly consumed by fatigue, but she had – like the day before – opted to go peacefully with her escort rather than risk another fight that might cost someone their life.

When they'd brought her back several hours later she'd been nearly catatonic, frail and pliant in their arms. Her team had taken her, too distraught to spare any thought for the guards, though they had once again handled her body with more care than Daniel would have expected. Additionally, the largest of the guards had appeared distinctly concerned as he relinquished his hold on the Major, and Daniel wondered briefly what could have transpired that would have engendered such unexpected compassion.

Daniel would never have imagined that he would prefer her convulsions, her cries of pain. And worse, her wrenching pleas to make the agony stop. But after staring into those inanimate eyes, after frantically trying to elicit some sort of response from her inert body, he would have welcomed any sign of life.

And now they fought to preserve it, all of them. Her team battled to anchor her there, to keep her heart going…to keep her alive.

* * *

As evening again cast its shadow over the fortress, Jack O'Neill felt it invade his heart as well. 

Daniel had offered to sit up with Carter tonight and monitor her to make sure she didn't crash again, or slip away in her sleep, but O'Neill couldn't let go. He'd promised Carter, after all.

He remembered her telling him that she could hear all of them when she was seizing, and feel that he was holding her. In a way, he was almost glad that she was unconscious now, so that she couldn't feel the way his hands were shaking.

To still them, he wrapped her gently in the same embrace as the night before and concentrated on ignoring how close they'd come to losing her that day.

It had nearly killed him, having to watch her leave with the guards that morning, knowing full well that he might never see her alive again. He'd tried reasoning with the guards to allow him to go with her. He'd tried cajoling. He'd tried sarcastic comments and bribery, and he'd tried to pick a fight so they'd take him too. But today Carter's escort gave Teal'c's traditional stoicism a run for its money. They'd taken her out of the cell and led her off, leaving him to grit his teeth and grip the bars, pressing his forehead against them as hard as he could in an attempt to use physical pain to distract himself from the emotional torture. Then he'd gone with Daniel and Teal'c to "work" in the mine.

In actuality, they'd mingled as much as possible with the other workers, seeking any information that might help them. They had also spread the word that an escape was being planned, offering to take anyone who wanted out and recruiting as many Nisians as would join them. Their plan had more holes than Daniel had artifacts in his office, and everything depended on SG-1 getting approval to accompany Carter to the throne room in the morning.

And that was _if_ she survived today's session of the Agonis.

Not _if_, O'Neill kept telling himself over and over. When. _When_ she'd survived it.

And then the guards had brought her back, pale and lifeless, and he, Daniel and Teal'c had worked for hours to keep her going. When her heart stopped, they got it started again. When she ceased breathing, they gave her their own breath. When she convulsed, they held her. And all the while, even as they kept up a running dialogue to give her something to focus on, O'Neill plotted Polytus' murder.

He'd never been particularly proud of his Black Ops work – his memories of that time of his life were like black clouds dotting the landscape of his mind – but now he was grateful for the experience. Before this was finished…before it was done, the Basileus of Nisia would learn the hard way everything O'Neill knew.

Carter whimpered in her sleep and O'Neill tightened his hold on her reflexively. He swallowed, feeling like he was treading water, trying to overcome the rising tide of his emotions.

This was hardly the first time he'd watched her confront imminent death, and he told himself that he should be accustomed to the idea of losing her, by now. God knew he'd faced the prospect more times than he could count over the past four and a half years. But this was different, somehow. This wasn't taking a hit in battle, this was torture. This was one man's sadistic punishment for Carter's audacity to reject him.

And this was after the things she'd told O'Neill the night before.

The truth of it was that despite his feelings for her – and the high regard and attraction he sensed back from her – he'd never been absolutely positive about the way she felt for _him_. He knew there was something there, but so much was stacked against it. There was the age difference, for one. But hey, odder things had happened before than a beautiful, younger woman being attracted to an older man, right?

Then there was the great, wide, yawning chasm between their respective IQ's. While O'Neill knew beyond a doubt that Carter _never_ perceived her knowledge as being something to lord over lesser mortals, and that she had the utmost respect for his own intelligence, there was just no denying that she was smart. Damn smart. And what would a freakishly brilliant scientist want with a guy who liked cartoons and fishing and shunned anything more technological than his television's surround-sound speakers?

And none of that even began to touch upon the regulation problem.

And so after much angst, and several encounters last year that had brought his feelings way too close to the surface, O'Neill had worked hard to convince himself that it – the idea of him and Carter – just wasn't possible.

But then she'd gone and told him that losing him for three months was one of the worst things she'd ever had to go through. That she'd rather go on with these daily torture sessions than live through it again. How the hell was he supposed to take that? More importantly, how the hell was he supposed to handle the thought of her dying _now_, when he finally knew for sure that this thing between them wasn't as one-sided as he'd believed?

And that, he realized despairingly, was one of the reasons why the fraternization regulations were in place to begin with.

He suddenly felt as if he were two people; one trapped inside the crusty shell of the other. On the outside was the Colonel, battle-hardened, calculating and more than a little world-weary. The man on the inside – Jack – was the core of him, with all of the same good qualities, but altered. It had been so long since he'd loved, and had a family, and lost it all, that he almost didn't recognize himself. He'd never thought that he would care this much again, but all at once he very much _wanted_ to, and he felt tiny fissures in his exterior erupting all over.

He was so wrapped up in his mental turmoil that he didn't notice Carter was awake until she spoke. "Stop it," she whispered.

O'Neill blinked, snapping out of his reflection and looking down at her in surprise. Her eyes were still closed as she lay curled into him, and so he was unable to read her expression as well as he normally could. "Stop what?"

"Torturing yourself," was her quiet answer. "I can hear you agonizing over it."

"I can't," he confessed. "Carter, I…"

He felt her eyelashes flutter against his neck as he floundered for the right words. He knew what they were, but not how to force them out between the cracks in the man he'd become. He didn't even know for certain that he should be trying.

Unaware of his inner chaos, Carter's voice distracted him once more. "I can't go through this again. I won't last."

She meant the Agonis, he knew, and she was right. "You won't have to," he said. "I'm not going to let them take you tomorrow."

_Never again_, he added silently.

She seemed to hear it anyway. He felt her eyelashes flutter again, and knew without having to look that Carter had closed her eyes against his words. It was something she always did in reaction to moments of powerful emotions. Sure enough, when she spoke again her voice was thicker than it had been a moment before. "You can't stop them, sir. I won't be the reason you get killed."

"Then tell him you'll agree," O'Neill said harshly, hating his demanding tone. "Tell him you'll go through with it. It'll get him to stop, and then we can find a way to escape."

"I can't…you know I can't," she said, and damnit, he did. It went completely against her character to submit to someone like Polytus. To ask her to go down without fighting would be asking her to give up everything she stood for. And he couldn't do that to her. But…

"Damnit, Carter, what do you want me to do? You want me to just stand there and watch you die?"

"I…I'm sorry, sir. But please don't order me to agree. Besides…if…if his object is no longer attainable, he wouldn't have any reason to keep the rest of you here, anymore."

As always, her logic was irrefutable. But the anxiety and fear he felt for her was like a ball of poison lodged in his throat. Unable to be swallowed, it was slowly killing him nevertheless. Yet he remained silent. He could at least honor her wishes. He wouldn't order her to capitulate to something she would never willingly give her consent for. The resulting quiet between them was crammed with the suppression of all the things he couldn't say.

But Carter, it seemed, had decided that there was no more room for silence. She took a deep breath. "Sir…I…I know I shouldn't say it. I shouldn't even feel it. But I need…"

She broke off, apparently trying to overcome years of military conditioning and her own mental restraints. Her words were halting in places, rushed in others, like a record on the turntable when someone was playing with the speed adjustments, and he felt her tremble a little in his arms. "We've all almost died a hundred times. And each time we've somehow managed to get out of it. But there _is_ no last-minute miracle this time. There's no ambiguity about…about what's going to happen tomorrow. It's simple, really. I'll die. I can't survive another blast from that thing. So tonight…just this once…I need to tell you how I feel."

Though he hadn't moved a muscle, O'Neill's heart had begun pounding in anticipation at Carter's first "I know I shouldn't". He felt like a team of enemy Jaffa had just ringed down in front of them; it was the closest thing he could think of to compare to the physical reactions his Major's words had caused. His mouth went dry and adrenaline surged through his veins.

Nor was Carter immune. Her chest heaved with shallow, shaky breaths that kissed the hollow of his throat above the collar of his tee shirt with each exhale. "I just…I need you to know that I love you, Jack."

Okay, this? This was definitely torture. There was no other description more accurate. There was no mistaking the vise around his chest, or the grief-tainted joy in his heart. Because although he never for a moment doubted the truth of her confession, he knew that she would never have made it if there were any chance that she might live through the next day. There was no longer any way that he could hold on to the far-fetched hope of some brilliant, last-second escape. For the first time, real hopelessness set in.

And yet, he couldn't quite die inside entirely. Because she was right. If this was the way it had to be, at least he could finally tell her, too. He could at least say it back.

"I love you too, Sam," he whispered into her hair with his eyes squeezed shut against their surroundings. "God, for…."

She cut him off, sliding her arms up around his shoulders and holding on. "I know," she said softly.

* * *


	7. Choices

**

* * *

**

Doctor Daniel Jackson – archaeologist, leading expert on ancient Earth cultures, fluent in over twenty languages – was speechless.

O'Neill usually got a kick out of watching the (normally) articulate doctor be struck dumb by something, and if the Colonel hadn't been so thoroughly miserable, he would definitely have grinned.

But as it was, when Daniel ducked into the back section of the cell and saw one Colonel Jack O'Neill lying on his side on the pallet, spooned up behind one Major Samantha Carter, he stopped in his tracks with his mouth hanging open and a flummoxed expression on his face. And all O'Neill could do was meet the archaeologist's gaze with apprehension in his eyes.

The younger man finally recovered himself. "Have you been up all night?" Daniel asked quietly.

O'Neill shrugged his left shoulder minutely, not wishing to disturb Carter's sleep and knowing that Daniel would be able to read the answering fatigue and worry in his own expression. All night long he had wrestled with his decision to honor Carter's wishes. Though he hadn't completely let go of hope, he knew full well that Carter was likely going to die today. A part of him – a big part – wanted to say to hell with what she wanted, and get her out of this alive no matter what the sacrifice. Another part, though, knew that Carter was right. There was no negotiating with terrorists. They were never truly able to be defeated, no matter what stance you took against them, but giving in to their terms was the surest way to guarantee that their demands would escalate in frequency and savagery. If Carter were to submit to Polytus, there was no telling what the next level of his demands would entail.

No, the only semblance of victory came from faithful perseverance in the face of all attacks. To never yield. He knew this. And he knew that Carter would rather die than allow her integrity to be compromised. But he wrestled with it, all the same.

All night long he'd fought with himself, second-guessing every decision that had led them to this point. And all night long he'd dreaded the inevitable, relentless advance of sunrise. He'd known that if he were to sleep, morning would come even sooner...unconsciousness being a sort of time machine that would effectively obliterate over the course of an eyeblink the remaining hours or minutes Carter had left. And now, here it was despite his watchfulness. Unbidden and unavoidable.

For his part, Daniel appeared to have forgotten his original intention upon entering the room. He didn't even seem to notice when Teal'c stepped up behind him.

If the Jaffa had any opinion of the state in which the military half of SG-1had just been found, he gave no indication of it. His voice, when he spoke, was as low and even as always. "The guards approach."

O'Neill closed his eyes for a moment, as if he could block out everything just by not seeing it. Block out everything except for the feel of the warm, vital woman in his arms. For just an instant longer he allowed himself to inhale the scent of her hair, imagining another possible life. One in which they were safe at home, far from any psychotic aliens. One in which he didn't have to pretend that he didn't love her. One in which he didn't have to wake her now, and watch her martyred.

Then the moment was over; he could allow himself no more. He opened his eyes and removed his arm from where it had been wrapped securely around her. He leaned back, allowing space between their bodies for the first time since Carter's divulgence the night before.

Sensing either his movement or the sudden lack of warmth against her back, Carter stirred and rolled over, looking at him blearily. "Jack?"

O'Neill could see mirrored in her eyes the regret and foreboding etched into his own features. "It's time," he said simply.

As he helped her up, he took the opportunity to pull her a little closer than necessary so that he could whisper into her ear. "Remember, we have _got_ to get them to let us come with you, today."

The chance of them effecting their crappy escape plan was so slim as to be nonexistent, but it was all that was keeping him going.

Carter nodded wearily and stepped back until she was entirely supporting herself. O'Neill kept his hands out in a protective, cautionary gesture until she appeared steady enough to proceed on her own, then he too stepped back, knowing that she'd want to project a composed image for her enemy.

They entered the front section of the cell just as the bars retracted into the wall. The usual guard quartet waited patiently in the corridor as Carter approached. All of them had healed with no visible signs of their scuffle with SG-1, save for the man with the broken nose. The surrounding areas of his face were still puffy and discolored.

When O'Neill, Daniel and Teal'c made to follow Carter out of the cell, the same spokesman from the second day stepped forward. "Only the woman," he instructed.

"Oh for crying out loud," O'Neill muttered angrily.

"Ah, we'd really appreciate it if you'd let us go with Sam today," Daniel tried.

"The Basileus only wants to see the woman."

"Yes, we know. But we're asking you to take us along anyway."

The front man opened his mouth to reiterate his orders again, but finally Carter intervened. She stepped forward, capturing the gaze of the largest guard, still in the corridor. O'Neill realized that he was the one who'd appeared concerned for her the past two days. "Look, we all know this is the last time," she said. "I won't live through today, and I really don't…I don't want to die alone. Please let my team be with me. I promise that I'll continue not to fight you if you just let them come."

All four guards paused, looking to each other silently for an indication of what their course of action should be. Finally, the largest stepped forward and addressed Carter. "You have conducted yourself with honor at all times, even to the extent of defending those ordered to imprison you. Your friends may accompany you on this day, and I will bear the responsibility for allowing it."

Carter's gratitude was sincere. "Thank you," she said, and led her team from the cell.

* * *

For the last time, they were taken to the throne room. Colonel O'Neill walked behind Carter, alert to her status and ready to catch her should she stumble in her weakened state. His 2IC was wasted; he could see it in the way she weaved when she walked. He could see it in her stance when they were led before Polytus and she assumed a loose sort of parade rest, her body obviously sore and exhausted. He watched her with worried eyes as he, Daniel and Teal'c were led off to stand at the side. 

Next to him, Daniel carefully glanced up under the pretence of watching Polytus rise and descend from his dais. He nudged O'Neill, bringing the Colonel's attention to the slit in the fabric behind the throne, verifying Carter's impression of the tunnel entrance location. O'Neill nodded, eyes scanning the room for anything that could serve as a weapon.

The obvious choices were the staffs carried by their guard, and getting close to them wouldn't be a problem. All four of their personal escort stood behind the three men of SG-1, obviously there to discourage just the sort of attempt they were hoping to make. There were also two personal bodyguards of the Basileus posted at the door, similarly equipped with staffs, and a personal attendant, unarmed.

Carter was left unguarded, standing alone at the center of the room, but O'Neill knew that she was at the limits of her endurance. Over the years she had proven her mettle to him, over and over, but frankly he was in awe that she was still standing after what she'd been through. Teal'c had said that his Jaffa friend was killed by the fourth shot of the Agonis; the fact that Samantha Carter – a _mere_ human – had survived to the same point was a testament to her personal strength of will. Though there was acid churning in his gut from anxiety, and in preparation for the grief waiting in the wings, he found himself feeling absurdly proud of her. He had reason to be, both as her commanding officer, and as her…well…as whatever it was that he was to her. He wasn't exactly certain of the definition for a CO who was also someone's against-regulations love interest.

Polytus came to the bottom of the dais and approached Carter. Only then did he notice that her team had been brought along with her. "What are they doing here?" he demanded.

The largest guard stiffened in the corner of O'Neill's eye. "Basileus. It was I who allowed it. The woman requested their presence today, and…"

He trailed off, apparently unable to find the words to convey his meaning. O'Neill could understand. Exactly how was the guard supposed to express his sympathetic desire to grant Carter's final request? How was he supposed to explain that to the man who would be responsible for her death?

Polytus didn't need the explanation. "Watch them!" he snapped, clearly displeased by their very presence. It seemed that the Basileus was also at the end of his rope and O'Neill wondered what Carter had said to him the day before to put the ruler in such a surly mood. He almost grinned; knowing his Major it would have been quick, cutting and accurate.

On the previous occasion O'Neill had seen the Basileus interact with Carter, Polytus had attempted to appear charming and magnanimous. Rational even, if only she would capitulate to his demands. Today he spared no thought for pleasantries, addressing her brusquely. "Have you changed your mind?"

Though it was obviously an effort, Carter straightened, squaring her shoulders and jerking her chin up in blatant challenge. "No."

Next to him, O'Neill saw Daniel wince.

The Basileus blew an exasperated breath. "Surely you know by now that you will not be able to withstand the Agonis a fourth time. It _will_ kill you."

Carter's gaze never wavered as she continued to meet his eyes. "I know."

Polytus shook his head, reaching up to massage long, slender fingers against his temple as if he were suffering from a headache. His tone, when he spoke, was incredulous, as if he truly could not wrap his mind around her defiance. "Why?" he demanded finally. "Why would you choose death over being a queen?"

"Because I'd rather die with dignity than debase myself by giving in to the demands of a tyrant who would use me as a brood mare," Carter replied. Her tone was even, but there was an edge of sharpness to it. O'Neill recognized Carter's "pissed off" face when he saw it, and he felt that swell of pride in her again.

"Though you'd never understand it, there are certain things a person would rather die than lose," she continued, and her eyes flitted over to meet the Colonel's briefly. O'Neill's heart began tripping in his chest and he found himself once more struggling with the overwhelming urge to step in and order her not to do this. His reaction was like a stubborn corpse; he kept burying it, and it just kept rising up from the grave to do battle with him again and again. For the hundredth time he reminded himself that this was her decision. He could order her otherwise, and he knew that she wouldn't disobey, but despite his overwhelming temptation to do just that, something kept stopping him from taking that step. Something beyond Carter's conviction to do the right thing, but there was no time to examine it.

"Then you leave me no choice," Polytus said coldly and gestured to his attendant. The young woman retrieved the cane-like instrument, coming to stand next to the Basileus. O'Neill tensed, shooting looks at Teal'c and Daniel, signaling them to be ready.

"You're wrong," Carter countered hotly, anger fueling her and flashing icy blue fire in her eyes. "You've got all the options, here. You could choose not to do this. You could release the workers in the mines. You could let me and my team go free."

"I cannot!" Polytus said. "You _know_ that we are at war with the Bretins. If you were freed only to fall into the hands of my enemy, I and my people would lose our advantage."

"We would go away!" Daniel interjected passionately. He tried to approach the Basileus, but his arms were grabbed from behind by one of the guards. "Look," he continued regardless, "this isn't necessary. If you'd just let us go we'd return to our home, far away from here, and never return!"

"I cannot take that chance," Polytus said.

"Then promise me this," Carter started, capturing the ruler's attention again. "At least let my team go. They haven't done anything, and they can't help or hurt you. Once I'm gone you won't need them anymore. Let them go."

Polytus regarded her silently for a long moment. "I will…consider it," he said gravely, then beckoned to his waiting attendant who moved to hand the death-dealing instrument to him.

For O'Neill time seemed to slow down. Carter looked at him while Polytus reached out for the Agonis stick, and he saw everything in her eyes. Everything he felt himself, and more. _Goodbye_, hers said. _Don't wait. Keep going. Escape. _Unshed tears shone in her eyes, and her lips moved in a hopeless, unvoiced "I love you" with so much emotion that he was shaken to the core. Then the room erupted into violence.

O'Neill saw every moment with perfect clarity of vision; colors appeared brighter, sounds louder. He could smell the oil burning in the torches on the walls. He felt his guard's breath whoosh past his ear as he elbowed him in the stomach, then spun to deliver an uppercut that lifted the larger man briefly off his feet as he sailed back into a graceful arc before coming to crash back down on the floor.

On the other side of Daniel, Teal'c had snapped his head back in the same instant, violently impacting the already much-abused nose of the guard Carter had kneed in the face two days before. As the guard stumbled backward, hands pressed to his spurting nose, Teal'c snatched up his fallen staff and jabbed it at the third guard. The fourth, the one who had allowed them to accompany Carter up to the throne room, moved to intervene.

To O'Neill's intense surprise, Daniel dipped and lunged at the fourth guard, tackling the massive man like a linebacker. They both went down.

Then O'Neill realized that Daniel was buying him precious seconds and so, instead of staying to face the two sentry guards that he knew were even now running toward him from their post at the door, he rushed forward to stop Polytus. But before he'd gotten two steps, he knew he would be too late.

The Basileus had used the distraction to advance upon Carter. He grappled with her now, mere moments from applying the lethal end of his weapon to Carter's skin. She was putting up a fight, O'Neill could see, but what little strength she had left was quickly fading. She flagged, lost her grip on Polytus, and sank to her hands and knees. She appeared to be keeping herself from collapsing to the floor only by the thinnest shred of control she had left.

Polytus let her slide down, standing over her like the executioner her was. He glanced up once as the Colonel approached, then reached out his arm to touch the deadly instrument to Carter's head.

"No!" O'Neill shouted, and barreled into the Basileus exactly two seconds later. They both tumbled to the floor, but it was too late. He'd heard Carter's cry of pain.

The Colonel pushed himself up to his knees immediately, scrambling over to the fallen Major. She lay on her side facing away from him, and with his heart in his throat he gripped her shoulder and tugged her onto her back.

Eyes glazed, she looked up at him without seeing, her lips parted and working in silent agony. "Carter, no," he said desperately, pulling her to him, trying to keep her there. "No! Sam!"

She could hear him; she reacted by lifting one tremulous hand up to touch him. It fumbled blindly at his chest before sliding up to find the side of his face by feel, and his heart broke into a thousand shards. He raised the arm that wasn't wrapped around her shoulders to press his own hand against hers, holding it to his cheek. "Sam," he said again, anguish thick in his voice, "Stay with me, here."

But she was fading. Slowly the light dimmed from her eyes. He heard the continued sounds of fighting across the room, but didn't dare to look away, even for a moment. Carter's raspy heaves slowed until her chest was alarmingly still. "Ja…Jack," she whispered, exhaling his name, and then her eyes closed, displacing the water that had collected there. The two tears slid slowly down the sides of her face and into her hair and he watched them as he felt her arm suddenly grow heavier. He lowered his hand, accompanying her own to fall gently to rest on her stomach.

She didn't take another breath.

He stared at her lifeless face, disbelievingly numb. He was waiting for the miracle he knew wouldn't come. Waiting for the last-minute save that was already sixty seconds too late. Waiting for the grief he felt looming to crash over him like the killing blow of a tidal wave. It kept building, gathering above him, threatening an ever-increasing deluge of pain.

And while he was waiting, his gaze was drawn to Polytus. The Basileus was also lying on his back, several feet away, uninjured. He'd only had the breath knocked out of him.

And next to O'Neill, within easy reach, was the device that had been used to kill Carter.

Finally he felt something beyond the numbness…something blessedly more immediate than the grief that would devastate him in a moment, when it came. A murderous rage filled him, and he reached for the device.

* * *

_a/n: Heh…don't throw anything at me. The fic's not over yet, and all hope is not lost. It only looks that way ;) Trust me!_

* * *


	8. A Different Fine Mess

**

* * *

**

Reality shifted.

For several, terrifyingly disconcerting beats of her heart, Samantha Carter had absolutely no idea who or where she was.

Then it all came flooding back. She was a Major in the United States Air Force. She was an astrophysicist and worked on the Stargate Program as a member of SG-1. Her commanding officer was Colonel Jack O'Neill, and he…

On a gasp she bolted upright, feeling a half dozen points of pressure tug at the skin of her temples and chest before snapping free. She looked down to see four circular red marks – about an inch in diameter each – marring the white skin of her chest above the hem of the gown she was wearing. The gown itself was white, fell to mid-calf, and contained two pockets, rather like a nightgown-length scrub top.

Upon lifting a hand to her head, she discovered two things: there was one more, slightly warm round spot on each side of her forehead, and there was also some sort of metal ring around the crown of her head. She pulled it off, finding that it was connected to her via several dangling microfilaments of an undeterminable material. They led to what was unquestionably an IV port in the back of her right hand, and she tore it out, heedless of the blood that immediately welled there.

Carter looked around wildly, reeling from disorientation. A minute ago she'd been dying on the floor of Polytus' throne room. She remembered Colonel O'Neill at her side, speaking to her urgently, and wishing she could see him. She remembered the feel of his cheek under her palm, and then…

She'd died, then awoken here. Recognizing that there was just something fundamentally wrong with that order of events, Carter took in her surroundings again and belatedly realized what must have happened.

She swung her legs off of the low platform upon which she'd been resting. Carter wouldn't have described it as a bed, or a couch, but as something in between. It was soft and white, with no discernable linens. The "pillow" was built-in, a square, tidy lump beneath the surface. It was the only piece of furniture in the room.

Indeed, it was the only piece of _anything_ in the room. Whoever had designed it could have been descended from the Spartans. No sign of the Colonel, Daniel or Teal'c.

Carter suppressed a feeling akin to panic when it fluttered in her stomach. She had to stay calm if she was going to get out of this. Her primary objective was to get out of this room and find her team. If she was right, they would be lying unconscious in rooms just like hers, hopefully somewhere nearby.

With that in mind, the Major rose, uncomfortably aware for the first time that she was wearing nothing beneath the thin material of the gown. It floated breezily around her as she made her way to the room's only entrance and paused there to peek out and assess the situation before moving on.

She looked out into a small, spherical room that reminded Carter of the space left behind in her tub of Rocky Road when she used an ice cream scoop. It contained four entranceways just like hers, with no doors, evenly spaced along the gleaming ivory surface. Though the architecture was alien to her, Carter got the impression that she was in some sort of medical section. The equivalent of an infirmary, or a hospital. Everything was white and spotless, and quiet.

Hoping to make as little noise as possible, Carter kept her breathing slow and steady as she emerged from her room. She moved on soundless bare feet to the first room on her right, her hands itching distinctly for want of a sidearm. Pressing her back flat against the curved wall next to the entrance immediately to the right of her own room, Carter took a deep breath and glanced quickly into the new one, eyes sweeping the interior, before ducking back to her position in completion of the training. Then she spun off the wall and darted into the room, crossing it to the man lying on the low platform. It was Daniel, and he was attached to it by suction cups just as she'd been when she awoke. He was also similarly attired in a loose white gown, though his was a bit shorter, cut off at the knee like some sort of Gladiator's tunic.

Carter wondered for a moment why Daniel hadn't awakened on his own, as she had, then realized that her "death" might have had something to do with it. Unavoidably, her mind started playing with the hows and whys _that_ worked, imagining that the ring device placed on each of their heads must somehow be capable of monitoring brainwave patterns, or maybe even just the firing of synapses. On one hand that was good, because it meant that her friend hadn't been "killed" by the guards in the throne room. On the other hand, it caused her to worry about whether or not removing him manually from the virtual reality would be harmful.

After a moment of debate, Carter concluded that there was no real choice. It wasn't as if she could just leave him here while she went and sought help. Whoever had done this to them was unlikely to render assistance just because she asked nicely.

Course of action decided, Carter peeled the suction cups from Daniel's chest and temples and gently removed his IV. Lastly, she lifted the ring of metal from atop his fine, short brown hair. His eyelashes fluttered immediately and Carter leaned over him. "Daniel? Can you hear me?"

Her teammate stirred, inhaling sharply as his arms jerked as if to brace himself from falling. Remembering her own disorientation upon waking, Carter kept a hand on his shoulder to reassure and stabilize him. "Daniel," she said again, "can you open your eyes?"

Apparently he could, because they immediately flew open at her words, darting to her in disbelief and blinking with the rapidity of someone jarred awake. "Sam?" he asked.

Carter nodded, opening her mouth to tell him to be quiet. To her surprise, however, the archaeologist's eyes misted. Before she knew it, he was off the bed / couch hybrid and hugging her tightly to him. "Oh my God, Sam," he said, overwhelming relief in his voice. "I thought you were dead."

"Wait a minute." Suddenly he pulled back from her, grasping her shoulders with both hands, his eyes raking her up and down as if to search for injuries. "You _were_ dead. How are you… What… Are you okay?"

Still in a hurry, but unable to remain untouched by his obvious relief and concern, Carter smiled, nodding. "I'm okay. Daniel, it wasn't real. None of it. We were in some sort of virtual reality program."

From her gown's pocket she pulled the metal ring that she'd taken from her own head, back in her room, and showed it to him. His eyebrows furrowed as he examined the device. "Like that planet with the Gamekeeper," he said.

Carter nodded again. "P seven J nine eight nine, yes." She paused, noticing the way he was squinting at the device, and looked around. "Do you know where your glasses are?"

Daniel reached an absent hand up to his face, apparently having been unaware that his glasses were missing until she'd said so. "No. I was wearing them just a minute ago…"

At Carter's meaningful look, Daniel's bemused smile turned wry. "Of course, a few minutes ago I was in a computer program. Sam, do you know where we are _now_?"

She shook her head. "No. But there are four other doors out there," she said, indicating the entrance, "I came from a room just like this one, and I'm betting that the Colonel and Teal'c are through two of the others. We've got to get them and get out of here."

Daniel had blanched at the mention of their teammates, alarming her. "What? What is it? Are they okay?"

"No," he shook his head. "I don't know. Teal'c and I fought off the guards, and then we…we saw you. And Jack…"

Carter felt icy fear nipping at her skin. "What? What happened?"

"He was using that thing…that pain stick thing…on Polytus. Sam, we didn't stop him. We went to get the workers from the mines so we could escape. We left him there. He's killing Polytus right now."

Carter swallowed. "It isn't real. He's not really killing anyone, because Polytus isn't real."

Daniel looked at her significantly. "It is to _him_."

Dread gripped her, and she snatched the ring device back from Daniel, who immediately followed her to the doorway. Her movements quicker now, she repeated her methods to make certain all was clear and led Daniel into the larger circular room.

She paused, moving close to Daniel so that she could whisper. "I'll take this one," she said, jerking her head to indicate the next room down to the right. "You go left to the second room; the first one was mine."

Daniel nodded once to show that he understood and started off, keeping his back to the wall as he walked. Carter mimicked his movements until she reached the next room, where she found Colonel O'Neill.

The feeling in her stomach that wanted to become panic fluttered up again, forcing her to swallow hard and mercilessly shove it down as she approached him with quick steps. The sooner she got him out of there, the sooner he'd be okay, she reminded herself.

He was lying on his back, outfitted with a gown, head device, IV and suction cups as she and Daniel had both been. Carter did away with them, taking no time this go around to be fascinated by the technology or to wonder how it worked. All she could think of was getting him out of the world where his rage and loss had prompted him to torture a man to death.

She removed the IV and kept pressure over the small puncture wound with her hand as she leaned over him. "Colonel," she said worriedly. "Can you hear me?"

His lips parted. His hand twitched in hers. Carter squeezed it, grazing the back of her other hand lightly against one of the suction cup marks still present on his temple. She felt the ends of his salt-and-pepper hair brush light as a feather across her first two knuckles.

She watched his face avidly, waiting for awareness to seize him, as it had Daniel. Then, it happened. And oh, it pierced her heart like a blade.

Colonel O'Neill's features abruptly twisted into an expression of such acute grief that Carter suddenly found herself blinking back tears in response. His mouth widened and he emitted a soft, inarticulate sound of anguish.

"Jack!" she said urgently, her voice nearly breaking despite her best efforts. She leaned over him and lowered her free hand to his chest, just needing to touch him. Hoping to calm him. "Jack, open your eyes, now," she demanded.

Amazingly, he did, and they roved about wildly for a moment as he sought to orient himself to the immediacy of his new surroundings. His breaths came in great, gasping heaves.

O'Neill's first action to situations such as this one was always to jump away in a remarkable display of reflexes, and she felt his muscles beneath her hand bunching in preparation to do just that. Rather than trying to restrain him, Carter raised her hand to her cheek and turned his face toward her, striving for eye contact. Then he saw her, and he stared up at her with round, dark eyes that were wide with shock.

"It wasn't real," Carter said immediately, giving him the information she knew he needed and squeezing the hand she still held. "None of it was real. We were in a virtual reality program, like the Gamekeeper's world."

She omitted the planet's designation automatically, knowing it would tell him nothing. She saw in his face when it all clicked for him and relaxed minutely as he sat up. But he never took his eyes from her. His voice, when he spoke, was raspy. "Are you…?"

"I'm fine, sir," she replied. "I don't know how that's possible, but I don't seem to have suffered any physical effects at all."

He was still staring at her like she was a figment of his imagination, or an insubstantial reflection in a pool of water. Like if he moved too suddenly she'd vanish. Carter was locked in his gaze, helpless to look away. "I know," she whispered, squeezing his hand again. "I know, Jack, but there's no time. We've got to get out of here."

He finally looked down at their clasped hands and shook his head as if to rid it of cobwebs. Regaining his self-control, he looked back up at her and his eyes were sharp again. In charge. "Daniel and Teal'c?"

Carter nodded as she released him and headed toward the entrance. "I found Daniel first; he's okay. He's getting Teal'c, now. They should be…"

She trailed off as they entered the circular hub to their rooms and encountered Daniel and Teal'c emerging from the second-to-last doorway. At any other time, Carter thought, she would have been highly amused by their matching states of undress. But the situation now called for absolute alertness. She would tease them both about their knobby knees and bulging calf muscles later. Assuming there _was_ a later.

There was no mistaking the look of gratified relief on Teal'c's face. The Jaffa's cheeks rose only fractionally with his smile, but it lit up his brown eyes like a neon sign. "Major Carter," he greeted her. "I am pleased to see you well."

Carter smiled and touched a hand to his warm forearm in silent acknowledgement as the Colonel swept the room with his eyes. "Which way?" he asked.

Carter jerked her head toward the last, unbreached doorway and they all fell in line. O'Neill paused as he assessed the space beyond, then led them into another white room. This one contained a large table, also white, where all of their gear lay. Its easy accessibility had them all looking around suspiciously. The Colonel appeared especially wary of some sort of trap. "Okay, campers, let's grab and go. The longer we stick around, the better our chances of getting caught."

Everyone snatched up their vests and weapons; even Daniel's glasses were present and accounted for. He slipped them on as he brought up the rear on their way out of the room.

They emptied into a long corridor, the ceiling of which was dotted with more bright, white lights. The hallway itself was a continuation of the stark white, uniform interiors they'd seen thus far. Apparently preferring a murkier environment in which to carry out their covert breakout, O'Neill winced at the long, unbroken stretch of bright hallway. "Okay, these guys've obviously never heard of Martha Stewart."

"It does lack a certain…personality," Daniel agreed in a quiet voice as they made their way down the corridor. "Does anyone have any ideas about who we've _actually _been captured by? I'm guessing it wasn't really the Nisians."

O'Neill glanced back at him sarcastically. "Ya think?"

Teal'c's dark skin contrasted sharply against the blindingly white background of the walls and his gown, and he somehow managed to look cool and self-possessed even in his ridiculous attire. "I am unfamiliar with this architecture."

"Yeah?" Carter asked, her attention abruptly riveted on the two people she'd spied walking in their direction. Thus far, they appeared too involved in their own conversation to notice the quartet of escaped prisoners down the hall. "What about them?"

* * *


	9. Character

**

* * *

**

As one, SG-1 froze, then looked around madly for hiding places. Carter instinctively retreated and ducked left, remembering a door they'd just passed. The Colonel got there before her and swung the door open wide into the hallway, ushering her in before joining her in the cramped space. She briefly caught sight of Daniel and Teal'c hightailing it in the opposite direction and prayed they'd be fast enough to avoid detection.

Then O'Neill swung the door shut and they were alone in the dark. It was the first room they'd encountered without lights on, and Carter could only assume that it was because the room was currently serving no function. Based on its narrow dimensions, she wondered if they'd stumbled into some sort of alien broom closet.

Whatever its purpose, the room was so small that Carter suddenly found herself – not exactly unpleasantly – pressed up against her commanding officer. His right arm dangled at his side and she felt the vest he carried in that hand bump against her own and rub against her knee as he shifted to try and find a comfortable fit in the confined area. His left arm was braced from elbow to wrist against the wall to the right of her head; she knew this because she bumped it with her nose when she tried to turn sideways.

Finally she gave up trying to find a less awkward position and just focused on abstaining from further movement. Unfortunately, she and Colonel O'Neill were still pressed front-to-front and with each exhale he sent a small gust of warm air tingling over her left ear.

This was not the time, she told herself. This was _not_ the time to be noticing things like that. Or things like the way she could sense _exactly_ where his jaw line was, inches away from her lips. If she just tilted her head up a fraction, and turned a bit…

No, she thought. She had to stay focused. Their alien captors were probably right outside the door by now. She tried to think about staying quiet so they wouldn't be overheard. Or about escape. Or about how they'd been captured in the first place. Whatever. As long as she did _not_ think about the way her CO's body felt pressed up against hers, or how erotic it felt to be pinned between him and the wall at her back. As long as she didn't dwell on the heady scent of him in her nostrils, or the way they were suddenly both breathing harder.

Damnit, she was dwelling.

Then, to make matters worse, she felt him tremble. It was just a small tremor, at first, but she felt it ripple through him and into her.

Concern for him immediately overrode her own nagging thoughts, and she brought her free hand up in the darkness to rest lightly at his shoulder. Maybe he was suffering from some sort of after-effect from the alien device he'd been connected to. "Colonel?" she whispered.

He shook again, and this time the shudder ended with him leaning in and nuzzling against the side of her head as he breathed a shaky sigh. There was a muffled thump from the floor, and as he wrapped his arms around her waist she realized that he'd dropped his vest and weapon. She followed suit with hers and brought both of her arms up to drape across his shoulders, just holding on.

No, disarming herself probably wasn't the wisest decision she could make at this juncture, but she knew now what this was. He was quaking in her arms, his heart thudding in his chest as he squeezed her tightly. Everything had finally slowed down for him, for just a minute. He'd confessed to loving her; virtual reality or not, the emotions were genuine. And then he'd had to watch her "die". Now they were both here, both alive, and the relief was finally sinking in. She knew that for him to be showing it like this, he'd been hit hard…hard enough that he couldn't suppress or avoid it long enough for them to get out of this situation, first. There was something humbling about a strong man – especially _this_ man – made vulnerable by his feelings and she couldn't help but respond to him. To reassure him that she was okay.

Carter squeezed back, allowing one hand to briefly cup the back of his head before drifting down to tenderly stroke the nape of his bent neck. She didn't say anything, but then, they never needed to. And while the darkness robbed them of all of the visual clues she normally relied on to read his state of mind, his body language more than made up for it.

O'Neill's grip on her finally loosened. He had lowered his head so that his face was pressed into her neck; now he raised it and drew back slightly. Carter turned her head toward him at the same time, pulse throbbing in her throat where he'd just inhaled deeply against her skin. She felt his cheek against hers, the smooth slide of it until their lips met with the intensity of a star silently going supernova.

In utter quiet she melted into him as he sank into her, lips parting willingly to grant him access to her mouth. His tongue ran along her lower lip and this time the fluttery feeling in her stomach had nothing to do with panic. Her hold on him changed, became more clinging than comforting as the hand not on the back of his neck trailed down his right shoulder, fingers curling around his upper arm lightly to keep him where he was. His hands moved up to cup her face, tilting her head back as he deepened the kiss.

Carter felt tears of emotion spring to her eyes, but she refused to open them. They gathered between her lashes as she kissed O'Neill back with all of the feeling she could, trying to make him understand all of the things she'd never been able to say. To make him feel the way she did when he kissed her like this.

She hadn't had a bad life. She'd grown up surrounded by people who loved her. She'd even been engaged, once, to a man she'd seriously contemplated spending the rest of her life with. But never once had she felt this wanted by someone. This needed. This cherished.

Then he slid his hands down over the swell of her hips, pulling her tightly against him. Carter's heart sped up as she felt passion flare amidst the tenderness, reminded that she wore nothing beneath the thin gown she'd awoken in. Based on the evidence pressed firmly against her abdomen, she realized that Colonel O'Neill was identically bereft of undergarments.

The thought did nothing to still her racing heart, or to extinguish the sudden, flaming desire she felt for him. He made a low, primal sound in the back of his throat that sent sparks of electricity tingling over her skin, shooting the temperature of the room up a good ten degrees. Her hands clenched fistfuls of the material over his back and arm; one of his slid up over her ribcage toward her breasts. The hand halted just short of touching the underside of one, making Carter want to groan with frustration. Then, once she realized just how much she _really _wanted him to touch her, she knew that this was on the verge of getting out of control. They had to stop.

The same thought must have occurred to O'Neill because his hand advanced no further, but instead dropped back to her waist. He allowed some breathing room between their bodies, but couldn't quite seem to force himself to break the kiss.

Carter could sympathize. Each time their lips parted for even an instant, she longed to taste them again. Each time he pressed his mouth on hers anew, she could feel how much she meant to him.

It was hard to give that up. But they had to. They always had to.

Gradually they were able to tame the frequency of their kisses, until they merely stood before one another, forehead to forehead, their lips brushing with each pant. Their breaths mingled and she could still feel the heat radiating from his body. "Sam," he said finally, "I…"

But what he'd been about to say, Carter didn't know. Because at that moment there was a sound at the door and an instant later a shaft of light penetrated the small room, bathing them in brightness. Carter and O'Neill turned toward the potential threat, squinting as their eyes adjusted.

"Jack, Sam," Daniel said as he craned his neck to look down the hall, "they're gone. Let's go."

Grateful beyond belief that the archaeologist's attention hadn't been focused on his teammates when he opened the door, Carter grabbed her gear and stepped out first, fervently hoping that the Colonel had had enough time to gain control over his body's responses. Unable to look down at herself without drawing unwanted attention, Carter figured she'd better be safe than sorry and carry her P90 across her chest, its butt crooked in her elbow. She didn't dare glance back at O'Neill.

In single file they again continued down the corridor, with Teal'c covering their six. Carter led the way, eyes sharp for any more aliens. The pair they'd avoided had been human, as far as she'd been able to determine, but that meant nothing. Most of the aliens they came in contact with had descended from the Tau'ri, so there was really no way of telling which race they might've been captured by.

She wanted more information. But what they really _needed_ was a way out of here. And when she peered into an entranceway a half-dozen turns from their original hallway, she hit the mother load.

The others halted when she raised her arm up in a solid fist. They flattened themselves against the wall beside her. Colonel O'Neill leapfrogged over Carter, taking up the position immediately adjacent to the entranceway. He darted a look inside and Carter watched his eyes widen appreciatively as he took in the scene she had just a moment before.

"Sweet," he whispered, and Carter had to agree. On the other side of the wall was a huge pod bay containing massive numbers of surface-to-air spacecraft. The logical portion of her mind admonished her not to assume the vessels were space-worthy, but they looked so incredibly advanced that she didn't see how they could _not_ be.

Their design was sleek and sophisticated in nature, with long, graceful curving wings and a streamlined nose that flared out toward the cockpit and thrusters. As far as she could tell, they were two-seaters, painted a menacing black and purple. They were dark, deadly-looking, and beautiful. Carter itched to fly one. But more importantly, she really, really wanted to get her greedy hands inside the engine of one and dismantle it.

O'Neill whipped around with his back to the wall again. "Okay, kids. Looks like we've got a way out. As fun as this whole experience has been, let's get the hell out of here before someone catches on to us."

"Teal'c, Daniel," he said, jerking a nod at them to indicate that they should go first. The linguist and the warrior crept forward, sliding seamlessly into the bay while Carter and O'Neill kept watch.

The Major was just about to follow when they heard Daniel's voice from inside. "Uh…Jack?"

Next to Carter, O'Neill bit out a curse as he rounded the corner into the entranceway. "Daniel, does the word "shhhh" mean anything to you?" he whispered harshly.

Carter followed him, her back to his, keeping her eyes peeled for anyone who might sneak up behind them.

"Uh…" she heard Daniel say, and then – chancing a look to see what the holdup was – came to an abrupt halt.

Oh.

Well. No point in covering their retreat if there was already a cluster of aliens in front of them, blocking their escape.

* * *

O'Neill's gun had come up the moment he spotted the group of people standing between SG-1 and the ships. Its muzzle pointed unwaveringly at the leader, a tall, thin man in long white robes that emphasized his height. The half-dozen men and women behind him were similarly attired. All possessed a sort of calm bearing…a confident, yet unassuming stature that proclaimed tranquility. None appeared armed, and none looked particularly threatening at the moment, but O'Neill was taking no chances. 

"Don't move," he ordered.

The front man smiled gently, his eyes clear blue and guileless. "It was not our intention to do so."

"Yeah, well, good," O'Neill said. " Just keep your hands where I can see them."

The robed man spread his hands fractionally outward in the apparently universal gesture indicating no threat. "You have nothing to fear from us."

O'Neill felt something that was too grim and scary to be a smile flit across his face. "So says the guy who took us prisoner and tortured one of my people for the past five days."

If the other man was perturbed, he showed no sign of it. If anything, his smile grew. "It only appears so, to you. In truth, you have been our guests for a mere few hours."

To his right, and slightly behind him, O'Neill could hear Carter's innate curiosity warring with the skepticism induced by her military half. "What do you mean?"

"Allow me to start from the beginning," the man bowed his head slightly. "We have already met, but none of you currently possess the memory of it. My name is Polytus."

Daniel's eyes narrowed. "As in…?"

"As in the Basileus of Nisia, yes," the man confirmed. "Although the man you came to know as Polytus was nothing more than a fabrication with my name and title. In fact, all of the people you believe you have come in contact with over the past several days were nothing more than computer programs, interfaced with your minds through our simulation devices."

O'Neill winced in anticipation of the conversation taking a scientific turn. The words "program", "interface" and "device" were all triggers certain to make his eyes glaze over. He'd hung around Carter long enough to recognize the beginning of a good technobabble rant when he heard one, anddecided to nipthis onein the bud before it got started. "Look, I'm not really big on all the details. Why don't you bottom-line it for me?"

"Polytus'" expression remained unoffended. "Simply put," he explained, "your team came through our stargate two days ago. We were well-met, and learned that we share a common enemy."

"The Goa'uld," Teal'c said, and as usual his words sounded more like a statement than a question.

Polytus nodded. "We were indeed brought here by two of that race, several thousand years ago...we, and several other planets in this solar system. For centuries we worshipped the Goa'uld as gods; we knew no better. But our "gods" grew lax in their monitoring of us, so long as our shipments of naquada were sent through the stargate on time. In their absence, we became more learned and developed technologically. We became capable of space flight and discovered our planetary neighbors. We banded together, pooling our resources and knowledge, until at last we were able to throw off our oppressors. Since that time we have been seeking other cultures through the stargate."

"That's…well, we just haven't met many other cultures before that have fought the Goa'uld and won," Daniel said, wearing his "that's fascinating!" expression. "How have you kept them from returning?"

For the first time, a touch of anxiety crossed Polytus' features. "We have not had to prevent an attack thus far," he explained, "because one has not been launched. But it is the very thing we live in fear of."

The Basileus gestured with one hand toward the multitude of spacecraft behind him. "We have become a strong force; our technology has advanced rapidly over the past several centuries. But we fear that if the Goa'uld should return, we will not be able to fight them alone. For this reason we have begun seeking potential allies through the stargate."

"And…we came through two days ago," Daniel prompted.

Polytus nodded again. "That is correct. We shared our history with you, and you with us. You told us that our people were brought here from your world, which corresponds with some of our oldest myths."

The tall man smiled. "Our people were very excited to meet you. Even more so to learn that there exists an association of peoples united in fighting the Goa'uld."

"It sounds like we got along _famously_," O'Neill said. "So, why don't we remember any of it? And what's with the torture?"

Polytus again smiled gently. "There is one answer for both of your questions. You must understand…we are relatively inexperienced in matters pertaining to alien cultures. Our only source of knowledge thus far have been the Goa'uld, and they were hardly trustworthy. We could not be certain that any of the cultures we met through the stargate would be honorable, and devised a way to test promising contacts. A simulation scenario, as it were."

The Basileus stepped toward them slightly, drawing several pieces of paper from a pocket hidden within the folds of his robe. "It is a two-step process; the first being an injection that suppresses memories. In your case, we needed to make you forget ever having met us, so that you would not know you were being tested. Anyone who would refuse to even contemplate this course of action would automatically be eliminated as a potential ally."

"And…we agreed?" Daniel guessed.

Polytus nodded and handed his papers to the archaeologist. Daniel shuffled them, scanning each one. "These are in our handwriting," he said, looking up at the members of his team. "They're written on SGC stationary and say to trust what he says."

O'Neill pursed his lips, unconvinced. "You said this was the first step."

Again, Polytus nodded in affirmation. "The proposal was suggested to you and you left for a day to confer with your superiors. Upon your return this morning, Doctor Jackson asked me to keep these papers safe for you while you underwent the simulation."

"Which we've only been in since this morning?" Carter clarified.

"Yes," the woman standing next to Polytus said. At blank looks from each member of SG-1, she smiled ruefully. "I apologize. Of course, you don't remember me. I am Thalia; I was responsible for your health while administering the simulation."

"Thalia," Daniel said. "We met…"

The woman nodded. "Each of the 'characters' we devised for the simulation were based on real people. As I was saying, the program is designed to simulate any period of time that we need. While you have experienced a number of days within the program, only a few hours have passed in reality. Once you are ready, we will give you another injection that will remove the memory suppressant and you will recall all of this for yourselves."

"So you're telling us everything we've been through over the past week wasn't real?" O'Neill asked skeptically. "It was all some big "the aliens are testing us to see if we're worthy" thing? That's your line?"

Polytus' brows furrowed quizzically at O'Neill's slang. "That is indeed our…line, Colonel. I assure you it is the truth."

O'Neill stared back at him for several moments. "You couldn't come up with anything better?" he finally asked.

"Actually, sir," Carter piped up, "I sort of believe them."

O'Neill turned another long stare on his second in command. "What?"

"Well, if it were all a lie, you'd think it would be a more believable one. Or at least more convenient. Besides, there's evidence to support what they're saying."

Teal'c cant his head curiously. "Such as?"

Carter paused, and O'Neill was interested to see a slightly self-conscious expression cross her face. "Um…well…my legs are still smooth, for one."

Suddenly O'Neill was back in the tiny room, in the dark, pressed up against his 2IC. His lips were on hers, his hands were at her waist, feeling the heat of her body through the thin material of the gown she wore. He cleared his throat, attempting to banish the memory from his mind before he started fantasizing about touching her bare legs. Damnit, why hadn't he touched her legs when he'd had the chance? "That's…fascinating Carter, really, but I fail to see…"

"She's right," Daniel interrupted, rubbing his jaw and looking at his hand as if he expected to see something there. "If we'd been here for days we'd all have stubble."

O'Neill thought about it. He really hoped not, because it was somewhat disconcerting…not to mention really, really weird, but… "Maybe they shaved us?"

Teal'c looked as if he were just as disturbed by the possibility as O'Neill.

Polytus actually chuckled. "I assure you, Colonel, we did not."

"I don't think so, sir," Carter said dubiously.

"Okay. What else?"

"Sir?" Carter looked confused.

"You said "for one"," O'Neill reminded her. "Before we just go letting them inject us with stuff, I want to know what else makes you think they're telling the truth."

Carter's self-conscious expression intensified, and she couldn't meet his gaze. The hint of a blush touched her cheeks. And even though she'd said absolutely nothing to indicate what was going through her mind, O'Neill abruptly thought he knew exactly what it was. Again he was reminded of their kiss in the alien broom closet. The sweet taste of her lips. More relevantly, the lack of morning-breath.

He experimentally probed his tongue along his teeth, finding them clean. So unless the Nisians had been brushing SG-1's teeth in addition to shaving their faces (or legs, in Carter's case) over the past five days, it was likely that their version of events was correct.

He glanced at Carter again, catching her watching while he ran his tongue over his teeth. Her blush deepened as his train of thought became obvious to her, and he felt a small, somewhat smug smile touch his lips. He had _so_ known what she was thinking!

"Well, uh…usually we get separated when aliens try to get into our heads," Daniel offered, oblivious to the silent communication between his teammates. "Like when Hathor made us think we'd been cryogenically frozen and revived in the future. Oh, and they usually want important information, too, like our iris codes. None of that happened this time."

"Additionally, we made your weapons and supplies available to you immediately upon waking," Polytus pointed out.

O'Neill exchanged looks with Daniel, then with Teal'c and Carter before turning back to Polytus. "All right," he said finally, lowering his gun for the first time. "Let's say we believe you. What next?"

"Now we will return your memories to you, as per our agreement," Thalia said.

"So did we pass?" Daniel wanted to know. "Your test, that is?"

Polytus smiled widely. "Indeed. We were hoping to encounter a race that valued loyalty, compassion, strength and purpose. You fulfilled all of those hopes. We were all most impressed at your conduct during the simulation, especially your unselfish willingness to help the oppressed workers in the mines."

He turned to Carter. "By refusing to submit to what youbelieved was wrong, even upon pain of death, you proved the courage and fortitude of your people. We are proud to have originated from the same ancestors."

Carter smiled her self-conscious smile again. "Thank you."

"Then only the environment was fabricated," Teal'c said, "while the events were true."

"That is correct," Polytus said. "Once set in motion, the simulation had hundreds of possible scenarios that could have played out, depending upon your choices. We only had to intercede a few times."

At O'Neill's questioning look, Polytus explained, nodding his head to indicate the Colonel, Teal'c and Daniel. "In addition to planting the false information about Nisians and the Agonis torture device in Teal'c's memory, several times we were forced to curb certain behavior. Each of you three were inclined – at numerous points within the simulation – to undertake steps that would have prevented Major Carter from being killed. Even to the point of sacrificing yourselves. While these attempts may have been successful, and were certainly counted in your favor, we could not allow them to succeed, or else the simulation would have ended before we could learn whether Major Carter was willing to die for what she believed in, or not.

"Toward the end," he said, narrowing his focus to O'Neill, "we were repeatedly forced to subdue your natural inclination to save her."

Carefully _not_ looking at Carter, O'Neill forced a smile. 'Well, that explains that."

"Quite," Polytus agreed. "Are you ready to receive your injections, now?"

"Oh, I'm _always_ ready for big, honking needles," O'Neill cracked.

He jerked a nod at his team and they began to trickle out of the room along with the group of Nisians. He watched as Carter sheepishly took a simulation ring out of her pocket and returned it to Thalia with a mumbled apology, and heard Daniel muttering to himself as he passed. "Should've known it wasn't real…I _never_ get to keep my glasses."

Colonel O'Neill lingered, hoping for a word alone with Polytus. The Basileus, apparently sensing his intent, obligingly stayed behind with him. "You said we passed your test," O'Neill started.

Polytus nodded. "Yes. The Tau'ri have shown exceptional character and potential, and we would be honored to accept them as allies. I only hope that your superiors will be as pleased with all that we can offer."

"I'm sure they will," O'Neill murmured. "But uh…I guess what I'm wondering is…you saw everything that happened in there, right?"

Polytus nodded again, and O'Neill went on, a little uncomfortable. "So, what I was doing at the end there…it doesn't skew your perception of us?"

O'Neill watched the Basileus' face carefully for any signs of disapproval or repugnance, seeing none. "Not at all," Polytus said. "I can imagine wanting to do no less to someone who had killed my beloved."

He paused, sharing a meaningful look with the Colonel as an understanding seemed to pass between them. "Indeed," he continued, "we had determined that only a race capable of forming such attachments would be suitable. The force of your love for her was the final proof that we needed."

* * *


	10. Where We Stand

**

* * *

**

"With Polytus' permission, SG-12 is all set to head to Nete tomorrow morning for their long-term cultural exchange assignment, with an emphasis on any Goa'uld information we can gain," Daniel said. "The Nisian delegation should arrive the following day for the initial tour and they'll stay overnight for the trade talks on Thursday, when we'll also decide on the best way to consolidate our knowledge bases. And Polytus has also already sent over the specs on their space…uh…Darts, I think they called them."

"I've taken a look at the design," Carter interjected. "They're amazing. And if all goes well with the trade negotiation, we should be able to begin mining for enough naquada to start building a variation of our own, soon."

O'Neill watched with mingled exasperation and fondness as Daniel beamed a wide smile around the briefing room table, caught up in the exciting rush of meeting and getting to know a new, rich culture. "All in all, guys, I think we've really lucked out, here."

"It's about time we caught a break," O'Neill acknowledged. After everyone around the table glanced at him questioningly, he elaborated. "Oh, don't get me wrong. The Tok'ra have been…well. And the Tollan, they're…uh…really adorable while they're spouting off about how primitive we are. And…I know Thor _means_ well, but... It's just that it's about time we found someone just as interested in an equal alliance against the Goa'uld as we are."

"The powers that be agree, Colonel," General Hammond said from his usual position at the head of the table. "And that's why we're going to extend the Nisians every available courtesy."

"Through the use of their simulation technology we've managed to prove our good intentions," Daniel added, "now we just have to make good on them."

"Thalia's also offered to let me see the specs on those…simulation…um…" Carter started.

"Head gear things?" O'Neill suggested.

"Rings," she finished. "Imagine if we could recreate that sort of technology. I mean, look what the Nisians were able to accomplish with it. They know beyond a doubt, now, that we can be trusted, which led directly to this unprecedented level of faith between us."

"And Thalia wasn't angry that you tried to nick one?" O'Neill asked.

Carter smiled and glanced down at her lap before responding. "Since she knew I thought we were being held captive by hostiles when I took it, sir, she didn't have any hard feelings."

"Well that's good," O'Neill said. "We wouldn't want to get off on the wrong foot in our very lucky, very lucrative association with the nice people who want to share."

"I too believe that we will reap great benefits from this alliance," Teal'c said.

"Yes," Hammond agreed, smiling, but there was no mistaking his slightly troubled look of concern. "But while we're on the topic of the simulation rings…Major Carter, I understand from your report that the effects of the Agonis were present only in the 'virtual reality', but are you sure you're all right? While all of SG-1 went through quite an ordeal, you bore the brunt of it."

Cater smiled. "I'm fine, sir. The simulation ring is a _very _sophisticated piece of equipment. Frankly, I can't wait to get my hands on one. Everything that we experienced for those five days was only in our minds, even the pain. I wasn't _really_ hurt, and when I woke up there were absolutely no physical manifestations of the symptoms that I'd experienced while in the program."

"That's good to hear," Hammond said, and when the worry lines went away only the smile remained. "Out of curiosity, were any of you informed why Major Carter was chosen to be the test subject?"

"Ah, no," Daniel said, "but they _did_ ask for it to be her, specifically. If I had to guess, I'd say it was probably because she was the only woman. Nisian culture is approximately the same as ours, gender-wise. Women have equality, but stillcontend with a long-held perception by some that they're theweaker of the two sexes. The Nisians probably chose Sam in anticipation that if any of us would surrender, it would be her."

"And that is where they were mistaken," Teal'c said.

Carter smiled, and O'Neill raised an eyebrow. "Yeah…they should've gone with Teal'c. Everyone knows he's the one who freaks out at the first hint of pressure."

The stoic Jaffa cocked his own eyebrow back at O'Neill, who grinned when everyone stared at him. "Oh come on. The constant crying? The whining? The blubbering? It doesn't bother anyone else?"

General Hammond shook his head, his eyes twinkling. "Dismissed, people."

Everyone stood and began to trickle out of the room. O'Neill was almost to the door when he heard Carter's voice behind him. "Colonel?"

He paused, wishing he didn't have to…wondering if she'd cotton on to him if he just pretended that he hadn't heard her and kept walking. Since he knew she would, he turned and a quick rush of apparently unrelated images flashed across his mind when he looked at her. Shapeless orange smocks? Now, why would he be thinking about all of that right now?

Oh yes. Because that was what she'd been wearing the _last_ time he'd been in this position. The last time he'd had to somehow manage to cram it all back into the bottle.

He noticed that the Major had lingered to collect the design specs she'd passed around during the briefing and he watched as she gathered them into a neat stack and tapped their edges against the desk to align their edges.

He'd been doing that a lot lately since their return from Nete…staring at anything except Carter's face when he couldn't avoid her. Both masters at emotional repression, neither had yet sought out the other to discuss the events in the virtual reality. For his part, while O'Neill understood what Carter meant about everything they experienced over those five days having been real only in their minds, they were still real to _him_. And since he had damn good reasonfor _wanting_ some of it to have been real, he'd figured it was best if he just kept his distance. They were, after all, back in the _real_ real world, where he was still Carter's commanding officer…a situation that wasn't likely to change anytime soon.

So he was a little surprised by her hail, but waited obligingly nonetheless. "Major," he replied.

When she didn't immediately respond, he chanced a glance at her face and discovered that her own eyes were riveted on the papers that she kept mindlessly shuffling. Finally, they flicked back up to him as she set the stack down purposefully. "Sir…we need to talk."

"Here?" O'Neill asked in surprise, both of his eyebrows going up.

Carter winced. "It's not the ideal location, no, but…the only other option is to meet alone somewhere outside the mountain, and that's too much like a…"

_A date_, O'Neill thought. She was right. Meeting outside of the SGC compound was too risky. Too casual. The ice was too thin, and there would be too much room for thoughts neither of them could allow.

"Right," he said, striving to remain nonchalant. "So."

"So," she repeated nervously, then cleared her throat and raised her chin to look at him directly. "Okay look, I'm just going to say it. I…I don't know where to go from here. I need to know where we stand."

O'Neill fought to keep tones of gloom from his voice. "I guess I just sort of figured you'd want to leave the virtual confessions in the…uh…virtual reality."

Carter momentarily closed her eyes, and he knew that she was thinking of the same moment he was…that infamous scene in the infirmary after the zay'tarc testing, when she'd told him that nothing they'd revealed to each other about their feelings had to leave that room. It was only one of the first of many moments over the past year and a half where he'd had to battle down his emotions, and the impending disappointment from having to do it again loomed over him.

And so he was utterly floored when Carter opened her eyes again to meet his stare head-on. "No," she said.

Something like hope fluttered in his chest with soft wings and he cocked his head slightly, one ear angled toward her as if he hadn't heard correctly. "No?"

Carter shook her head. "No," she said again. "I…I don't think I can, really. Not again. Not after..."

She sat down again, briefly running her hands over her face. "I know it wasn't real. To the rest of the world it wasn't real. But we were _there_," she said, looking up at him meaningfully. "It would be different if it had been just my mind, or just yours. But we were both there. It was us, and that makes it real."

He watched her silently for several long moments, his lips parted as his pulse galloped. "Yeah," he finally agreed softly. "It does."

"I mean, maybe it would've been different if we'd just continued to dance around it without actually _saying_ anything, like we always do," she rambled, "but we used the L word, and you don't just walk away from that."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, O'Neill found himself smiling. She was just too damn cute when she was flustered. "The L word?"

She was immune to his humorous take on the phrase. Indeed, she looked a little tense. "I meant it," she blurted.

"So did I," he replied evenly.

She stared at him, eyes searching. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Carter appeared overwhelmed by the admission and looked down again, taking a deep breath to steady herself. O'Neill could empathize. He suddenly wished he were sitting, also. While he was at it, a shot of JD would go down swell right now, too. His stomach felt as if it were full of restless replicators.

Honestly, he'd never imagined that he'd find himself in this position. Sure, he harbored deep feelings for his 2IC. Sure, he knew that she felt something for him, too. And sure, everyone else sort of seemed to know about it. But there had been so many reminders as to why it couldn't work that he'd managed to convince himself to give up hope. Or at least, he'd thought he had.

But now his heart was pounding like he was a kid with his first crush. She'd told him that she loved him. She'd meant it. And she didn't want to take it back.

And he really didn't want her to take it back, either, despite the way his whole world had just been tilted askew. But something – hell, a lot of somethings – niggled persistently at the base of his brain. "Carter," he started reluctantly, "there are reasons why we never got that far before. With everything this planet is up against, we're both needed right here."

She swallowed, but never took her eyes off him. "I know."

Hating himself, he pressed on anyway. "Those reasons are all still there."

Carter nodded. "I know that, too."

Hm. O'Neill jammed his hands into his pockets and regarded her silently for a moment, a little taken aback by her acceptance. It appeared contrary to what she'd been indicating earlier and now, well…yes, okay, he was confused. "So what are we saying, here?" he finally asked. "Because to be completely honest, I don't see where anything's changed. I didn't learn anything in there that I didn't sort of already know."

"Neither did I," Carter admitted. "But…it's different, now. I can't…I can't pretend now that I don't want more. Some sort of future with you."

More. She wanted more. A future. With him. Holy crap. That was...amazing. That was wonderful, that was…

Bad. Oh, very, very bad. Because… "Carter," he said, pained.

"I know," she said quickly. "I know, nothing could happen right now. There's too much else at stake. Honestly, no matter which way I turn the pieces in my head, I can't think of any way that we could…explore this…and still do what we need to be doing. At least," she said, looking at him with a sea of uncertainty in her eyes, "not right now?"

He went very still as the light bulb flicked on in his brain. Slowly, very slowly, he smiled. "Hence the 'future' part?"

Carter shyly returned his smile. "Yeah. I mean, if…well, I'm willing to wait for that, if you…"

"I'll wait," he said immediately, making her blink at the interruption.

"You're sure?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, then reached a hand up to rub the back of his neck. "Um. So when you say 'waiting', are you saying like…"

She reddened. "Um…yeah, that's what I was saying. Does it…do you want to change your mind?"

"Hell no," he said, grinning because he could finally tease her again without worrying that he was revealing too much. "I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page, here, so none of your alien suitors get their hopes up."

Carter opened her mouth with a quick comeback and the angle of her head combined with her narrowed eyes warned him that it would be a good one. But then she reconsidered and snapped her mouth shut again without saying anything.

"What?" he asked, intrigued.

"I can't say," she said. "For now, you're still my commanding officer. We've both got to remember that."

He thought about it. "Okay," he allowed. "But this whole conversation is already way against regulations. So how about this…when we walk out of this room, we'll go back to our proper military relationship. But for right now…tell me what you were just going to say."

She pursed her lips but was unable to camouflage the wicked smile that lurked there. "I was just going to say that at least the only thing my alien suitors ever got up were their hopes. Unlike certain _colonels_ I know who'll hop into bed with the first alien woman who comes along. And the second."

O'Neill coughed, then cleared his throat. He definitely hadn't been expecting that. Continuing to adhere to military protocol after they left this room was probably in his best interests…he didn't know if he could handle Carter in a working environment with no rules. "Hey," he said in his defense, "waiting now, remember?"

Her smile this time was wide and luminous…one of those killer smiles that had always hit him like a fist in the gut (but in a good way) back when she hadn't had to curb her reactions to him.

Now he felt that familiar lurch in his stomach and was pretty sure that his own smile was rather goofy. He rolled his eyes. "We'd better get out of here," he finally said, and she nodded in agreement as if she, too, could no longer trust herself to maintain the necessary distance.

Carter gathered up her papers again and walked toward him. "I'm glad we cleared this up," she said, her tone abruptly professional. _Too_ professional. O'Neill glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as she came abreast of him and they turned toward the briefing room door. She looked happy, but focused and business-like.

"Yeah?" he asked.

As they reached the doorway she paused and turned to face him. "Yeah."

"So…we know where we stand, then?"

She smiled again, and this time there was more than a hint of mischief in her expression. He knew it! She was setting him up for something. He could smell it a mile off, he just didn't know what it was, yet. "Absolutely," she answered, nodding toward the room beyond the briefing room. "On the other side of that door we go back to being commanding officer and 2IC until…well, until things change, or until we decide to change them. But before we do, there's just one more thing I wanted to say."

She stepped closer to him under the pretense of leaning to check out the view through the window that looked out over the gate room. O'Neill couldn't help but take a deep breath; this close he could smell her shampoo and the distracting, intoxicating scent of her skin. His treacherous pulse skyrocketed in response and he fought the urge to reach out and pull her against him as he had after they'd awoken from the virtual reality. Damn security cameras.

"Back when we were in that room," she murmured, "in the dark, with you pressed up against me while we had our very _not in the virtual reality_ kiss…"

She paused, eyes flicking up to him to gauge his response, and God, he was _so_ already there. Seeing that he was, she smirked and let the axe fall. "You know I didn't have any underwear on either, right?"

Ah! Aah! He had…of course, he had. How could he not? She'd been all curves and soft, feminine warmth beneath his hands; of course he'd known. But her saying it now – in that throaty, sexy purr – just shot him mentally right back into that room.

Unfortunately, it also inspired certain parts of his _physical_ anatomy to remember the events of that room.

O'Neill briefly closed his eyes against the onslaught of stimulating memories, letting out a disbelieving huff of air. "I can't believe you just…that was….you are so…"

Mission accomplished, Carter strode briskly through the doorway and turned back toward him, once more firmly immersed in her military persona. But O'Neill knew that Sam – his Sam – was still in there, giggling over his predicament. And how did he know this? Because her eyes were sparkling at him and she couldn't resist, with her polite, professional expression, asking, "Coming, Colonel?"

Wincing at her choice of words, O'Neill still couldn't help laughing. "Gimme a minute."

* * *

_FIN _

* * *

_Thanks again to everyone for reading!_


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